


(i like me better) when i’m with you

by lumaxies



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-05 23:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15873567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumaxies/pseuds/lumaxies
Summary: the letters are out.to all the boys i loved before au





	1. part one: september - october

**Author's Note:**

> i saw someone else do this but it was after i’d already started mine, so i hope it’s okay that i’m publishing this!! this is one of my favorite book series, and since the movie came out, and i’m always a slut for peter kavinsky, i figured now would be a good time to let this see the light of day!

I like to save things. Not important things, like whales, or people, or the environment, though I should probably work on that. I like to save silly things. Unimportant things. Old movie tickets, pass bracelets from amusement park trips long since past, a leaf from everywhere I go. I guess, out of the things I save, my love letters are my most prized possession.

I keep them in an old hat box that used to be my grandmother’s. They aren’t love letters someone wrote to me; I don’t have any of those. They’re love letters I’ve written- one for every boy I ever loved. Five in all.

The first is to Kenny, a boy I knew at camp when I was ten. I haven’t opened the letter since I wrote it, but I’m sure it’s absolutely terrible. I wasn’t even that into Kenny- I just thought it was cool that he had a pet lizard, and knew how to canoe.

The second is for TJ, from seventh grade. We had formed a weird sort of acquaintanceship after he stopped fighting with Buffy, and at his fifteenth birthday party, he was my first kiss. Okay, the kiss was just a peck, something sweet and innocent, like you’d expect from a fourteen year old, but it was still one of the most romantic moments of my life.

The third letter is for Walker, who is totally into girls, and not me, but still deserves a letter for freshman homecoming. I was totally awkward back then, and completely antisocial, and still coming in to coming out. I was only at homecoming because of Buffy, but she was puking her guts out, so I was alone on the dance floor. Walker asked me to dance, and it was the most fun I’d had all year. He’s just a good guy, with a good heart.

The fourth letter is for Marty, Buffy’s boyfriend. I stopped liking him before Buffy started dating him, and she knew about the letters, so it wasn’t awkward at all. My crush was really more of a distant admiration, anyway. I thought his haircut was cute, and he helped me in history. Our relationship was always meant to be platonic.

The fifth and final letter is for Jonah Beck, the world’s most perfect guy. He's been going to school with us forever, but didn’t really know of our existence until seventh grade, and he started a thing with Andi pretty soon after. We were fast friends, and I probably had a chance with him, but I didn’t realize my feelings until later that year. Way too late to make a move.

When I write, I hold nothing back. I write like he’ll never read it. Because he never will. Every secret thought, every careful observation, everything I’ve saved up inside me, I put in the letter. When I’m done, I seal it, address it, and put it in my chest, high at the top of my closet.

They’re not love letters in the most specific sense of the word. My love letters are more like moving on letters. I write them when I’m ready to fall out of love- when I want to eat my Cheerios without wondering if he likes bananas with his too, when I want to watch a movie without thinking about whether or not he’d like it. They’re for goodbye. Because once I’ve written my letter, I’m no longer consumed by my all-consuming love. If love is a possession, the letters are like my exorcisms. My letters set me free. Or, at least, they’re supposed to.

. . . . .

I find out Andi and Jonah officially broke up, for good, about a week before junior year starts. Buffy, Andi, and I are curled up in my living room, half-watching Ten Things I Hate About You, but mostly eating popcorn and gossiping.

“So, Andi,” Buffy asks conspiratorially, wiggling her eyebrows. “What’s going on with you and Jonah?”

Andi sighs, reaching for an Oreo. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Nothing?” I ask, raising an eyebrow, and leaning backwards off her couch. “Why nothing?”

“I broke up with him.” Andi says shortly, nodding, and avoiding eye contact. Buffy and I exchanged a glance as Andi glued her eyes to the TV. I motioned for Buffy to speak, but she shook her head fiercely, and motioned back to me. I sighed, and reached my hand out to Andi’s.

“You broke up with him?”

“Whatever was going on with me and Jonah, it wasn’t working.” She shrugged, unaffected. “I loved him and he loved people loving him. It was never going to work for the long term. I just finally came to my senses, is all.”

“Wow, Andi,” Buffy said in disbelief. “That’s very mature of you.”

“Thank you!” Andi grinned, then turned back to me. “We should talk about Cyrus’ love life!”

“What?”

“Cyrus,” Andi asked seriously, still holding on to my hand. “When was the last time you went on a date?”

“Uh, I actually-“

“A real date,” Buffy interjected. “Not a dance or athletic program where you’re my plus one.”

I deflated, sitting up properly on the couch, and pulling my hand from Andi’s.

“Cyrus, we just don’t want you to be lonely.” She said gently, turning fully towards me. She rested her hand in my ankle, and I sighed.

“I’m not!” I defended, smiling at both of them. “I have you guys. My best girls.”

“We won’t be enough forever, Cy.” Andi and Buffy looked at each other sadly, and Andi spoke quietly, “Just think about it.”

I nod awkwardly, and the room falls into silence. On screen, Heath Ledger’s character danced on the bleachers as the girls soccer team watched in amusement. I burrowed further into the couch cushions, and held a pillow against my chest. I’d love a guy like that. Someone who wasn’t afraid to humiliate himself for me; someone who loved me as unconditionally as Heath Ledger already loved Julia Stiles.

“I’m going to use the bathroom.” Buffy announced after several minutes, disappearing down the hall. I didn’t think much of it then. Maybe I should have.

. . . . .

The first day of school always made me nervous. There was so much pressure to impress everyone, to get everything right. I always felt like I was going to screw everything up at any second. So when I awoke on the first day of junior year, and promptly felt the urge to vomit, it was no surprise. But, usually, the first five minutes of the day are always the worst. That’s where things differ this year.

Everything is going fine, totally, completely, absolutely fine. I hadn’t tripped over my own feet like in sixth grade, I hadn’t spilled water all over myself like freshman year, and there’d been no pudding at lunch. Everything was fine. Good, even.

Until I saw TJ Kippen.

Buffy and I were throwing out our things from lunch when he approached us, walking swiftly and determinedly. He was the same TJ from middle school, just more… rounded out. Gone were his lanky limbs and awkwardly sharp features. He’d grown a few inches, now standing at a solid 6’2, to my 5’8. His face seemed more angular than pointy now, and his arms… lord, his arms.

“Um, hey, can I talk to you for a second?” Buffy and I exchange a wary glance, but I nod, stepping to the side with him. In a low, quiet voice, he continues. “I just want you to know that I don’t have any STDs.”

“Uh, I never said you did.” I stare at him with my mouth open, beyond confused.

His voice is still low, but furious. “I also don’t always eat the last baby tater in the basket.”

“What the hell are you talking about, TJ?”

“That’s what you said. In your letter. How I’m an egotistical guy who goes around eating the last baby tater in the basket, and giving girls STDs. Remember?”

“What letter? I never wrote you a letter.”

Wait. Yes, I did. I did write him a letter, about a million years ago. But that’s not the letter he’s talking about. It couldn’t be.

“Yes, you did, Cyrus. It was addressed to me, from you.” He pulls a folded envelope from his pocket, and hands it to me.

No. No, no, no, no, no. This was not happening. TJ had not read his love letter from middle school. The universe couldn’t possibly hate me that much. And yet, it did.

“I’ve got to go.” I finally spat awkwardly. And then, I ran.

. . . . .

**_Dear TJ,_ **

**_First of all, I refuse to call you Kippen. I know you think it’s cool that you go by your last name now, and I know you think it makes you sound like a real athlete, but it doesn’t. It makes you sound like an old Jewish man who I would avoid at service._ **

**_When you kissed me, did you know I was going to fall in love with you? I think maybe you did, but I hope you didn’t. It hurts less if you didn’t know what you were doing. But you had to know. Because everyone is in love with you. Including me. I was. And that kiss was just a confirmation that you could do it. Get anybody you wanted._ **

**_So, yeah. Everybody loves you, and so did I. But I don’t anymore, and here’s why:_ **

  1. **_You burp and don’t say excuse me, which is so gross. It makes the air smell like chili cheese fries, and it’s not attractive. I think you think people will find it charming that you’re all manly, or whatever, and if they don’t then it’s their problem. But you care lots about what people think of you. You only do it to seem cool, but it’s not!!_**
  2. **_You always eat the last baby tater in the basket, and you never ask anyone if they want it, which is so rude. I definitely did want it. :(_**
  3. **_You’re so good at everything. How are you so good at everything? It’s annoying. Let some of the underdogs be good for a change._**
  4. **_You push people away. Lots of people like you, but every time someone tries to actually get close to you, you act like a total jerk. You yell at them, and treat them like dirt, and try to bully them into leaving you alone. Why? Why can’t you just let me in? I think it’s because you’re damaged. But, can’t you see that I’m damaged too?_**
  5. **_You kissed me for no reason. Even though I know you didn’t like me, you still did it. Why? Why would you do that to me? My first kiss was supposed to be special. I’d read about it- fireworks, sparks, explosions, the sound of waves crashing in your ears, your heart feeling like it’s going to beat out of your chest. I didn’t get any of that. Thanks to you, it was as unspecial as a kiss can be._**



**_The worst part is, that stupid nothing kiss is what made me like you. I didn’t before. I never thought of you like that. Everyone always said you were the hottest guy at the middle school, and sure, I could agree. Your face is extremely aesthetically pleasing. But I didn’t see the allure. Maybe you were cute, but that didn’t mean you were anything to swoon over._ **

**_Maybe that’s why you kissed me. To mind control me into liking you. To make me see you that way. And it worked. Your stupid little trick worked. Because, suddenly, I was noticing all these things I hadn’t before. Like, how beautiful you were. How long your lashes were, and how your eyes changed to a different shade of blue when the sunlight hit them just right._ **

**_So, even though you don’t deserve it, here’s why I love you._ **

  1. **_One time in gym, nobody wanted to partner up with me, because I’m so unathletic. But you volunteered like it was no big deal, and you helped me shoot a basket. Suddenly, other people were volunteering to be my partner, too. But I always picked you._**
  2. **_You got put into freshman chorus on accident, and you didn’t even quit. You even sing solos and stuff, because none of the other boys want to. You’re not even embarrassed._**
  3. **_After you found out that I couldn’t ever get a chocolate-chocolate chip muffin, you ran all the way from history every day, to get in line and grab me one. You could have skipped the queue, but you didn’t. You waited. For me._**
  4. **_You didn’t make fun of me when you found out about the list of easy things I can’t do. I thought you were going to laugh, but you didn’t. You said you thought it was cute, and you helped me check things off. That was really cool of you._**
  5. **_I’m the only person you’re nice to. Even though you act like a jerk sometimes, you treated me different after the swings. I think it was our defining moment. Everything changed after that day._**



**_After you kissed me, I liked you for the rest of seventh grade, and all of eighth. It was hard, watching all the girls flirt with you, and knowing we’d never happen. I know you’ve had one or two girlfriends, and I’m sure you made them feel so special. You’re good at that. Making people feel special._ **

**_Do you know what it’s like to love someone so much that it hurts? To have a pull in your chest every time you see them, to feel your heart beating a million times a minute, to feel so much adoration and longing for them, but know that you could never have them? Probably not. Everybody loves you. People like you don’t have to suffer through unrequited love._ **

**_But, now that the year is almost over, I know for sure that I’m over you. I have become completely immune to your charms. Kind of like chicken pox. You get it once, it’s awful, and you never get it again. Now, I never have to worry about catching you (or chicken pox) again. What a relief! I bet if I did kiss you again, I would catch something, and it wouldn’t be love. It would be an STD!_ **

**_Always and Forever,_ **  
**_Cyrus Goodman_ **

. . . . .

“How did the letters even get out?” I wailed, blowing my nose into one of the tissues from the box next to Andi. She and Buffy stood with me in an empty classroom, wiping my cheeks, and holding my hands. “They were in the top of my closet, they were never supposed to be sent!”

“About that,” Buffy laughed uncomfortably, and shifted her weight. “Cy, I sent the letters out.”

“You what?” My heart beat loudly, and my stomach sank. I felt suddenly nauseous.

“Cyrus, it was time!” Buffy explains, resting a hand on my knee. I shake her off.

“Time for what?” I ask softly. I’m trying really hard not to cry even more, but I can’t help it. Why would she do that to me? “Me to be humiliated?”

“Time for you to find love!” Buffy smiles, and I can see that she really thought she was helping. Her heart was in the right place. It’s too bad her brain wasn’t. “Cyrus, you’re such a good guy. You’re loyal, and funny, and smart, and you deserve somebody who is going to see those qualities and love them even more than we do.”

“That doesn’t mean you had to send my letters out!” I’m feeling more angry than sad now, as I cross my arms, and narrow my eyes.

“It was the only way!”

“Buffy, those letters aren’t even serious. You read the one for TJ; it was a joke! And the other ones are all for people who are either straight, or not in my life!”

“Cyrus…” She shook her head, exasperated. As if she had any right to be annoyed at the situation! She was the one who screwed me over!

“You didn’t have a right to send out my letters. They were private. And now they’re out there, and I’m going to get treated like a joke again!”

“Cyrus, you were never treated like a joke in the first place.”

“Oh, yeah?” I raise my eyebrow at her. “I’m an openly gay twink, I’m Jewish, and I’m a huge nerd. In high school. I’ve been treated like a joke since I got here! No one takes me seriously! Not like you or Andi.”

“That’s not fair.”

“It is! You guys have your own stuff to deal with, granted, and I’m sure it’s not easy to be you guys all the time. But, Buffy, you play basketball. You started the girls team at the middle school, and you’re the captain of the girls team here. Andi, you were the lead in the school play last year, and you got elected as a student representative even though you didn’t run!”

“Cyrus, I was just trying to help.” Buffy tried again, extending her hand towards me. I pushed it away, and stormed out of the classroom, leaving nothing more than one last jab at her conscience.

“Tell Marty to enjoy his letter!”

. . . . .

The way everything happens is serendipity, in an unlucky sort of way. It’s the heavens opening up, and God saying ‘I hate you, Cyrus Goodman!’, before triggering the worst chain of coincidences to ever strike the face of the Earth. If my locker door hadn’t been jammed, and my bus hadn’t been late, I wouldn’t have even been in the hallway when Jonah got to school.If he hadn’t needed to get a jump from his dad, he would have been in class by the time I got there. And, if TJ hadn’t needed to meet with his Algebra teacher before school, he wouldn’t have been in the hallway either, and maybe this whole thing wouldn’t have happened.

But, someone up there has got it in for me. I think it’s Ronald Reagan.

“Hey, Cyrus!” Jonah Beck. Smiling, like always, his dimples ever present. He was so perfect, that it was unfair. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you. Did you get my texts?”

I swallowed. “Um… my, uh, phone is… off.”

“Oh.” He nodded, pretending to believe my story. He was nice like that. “Um, I just wanted to ask you about…” He pulls my letter out of a side pocket on his backpack. I glance down at it, my face hot, and I smile tensely. “I don’t understand. What is this?”

“Wow,” I feign surprise, taking it from him, and resisting the urge to tear it into pieces. “Where did you get that?”

“It came in the mail, to my house.” Jonah seems distressed. “When did you write this?”

“Like, forever ago! Like, so long ago, I barely even remember it!” I let out a fake laugh. That’s it, Cyrus. Keep it up.

“Cyrus, there’s stuff in there about when I invited Andi on my family vacation. That happened, like, last year.”

I pause, and bite my lip. “Well, it just feels like so long ago.” I can feel myself getting wound up. I know that I’m liable to burst into tears at any second. I have to focus on staying cool and breezy. If I waver, it’ll just make everything worse. “‘Cause I’m so over it. My crush, I mean.”

“So then… Do you? Did you? Like me, I mean.”

“I mean, yeah, I had a crush on you, but it was a million years ago, and it was before you and Andi became official.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” He asks. He looks confused, but also… regretful. “I feel kind of blindsided. If I’d known…”

Wait, shit! What does he mean by that? Had he liked me, too? Whatever he’s thinking right now, whatever he thinks he has to say to me, I don’t want to hear it. I will do anything, literally anything, not to hear it.

Before he can finish his thought, I say, “I’m dating someone.”

Jonah’s jaw goes slack. “What?”

Fuck. Me and my big mouth.

“Yup. I’m dating someone, someone I really, really like, so please don’t worry about this.” I wave the letter like it’s just paper, trash, like once upon a time I didn’t literally pour my heart onto this page. I stuff it into my bag. “I was really confused when I wrote this; I don’t even know how it got sent out. Honestly, it’s not worth talking about. So please, please don’t say anything to anyone- especially Andi about it.”

He nods, but that’s not good enough. I need a verbal commitment. I need to hear the words come out of his mouth. So I add, “Do you swear? On your life?” God, if Andi was to ever find out . . . I would want to die. She’d probably never speak to me again. Even if she and Jonah aren’t going to get back together, dating a member’s ex is totally against Good Hair Code.

“All right, I swear. I mean, we haven’t even spoken since she dumped me.”

I let out a huge breath. “Great. Thanks.” I’m about to walk away, but then Jonah stops me.

“Who’s the guy?”

“What guy?”

“The guy you’re dating.”

That’s when I see him. Tyler Joseph Kippen, of the ocean eyes and toned arms. Walking down the hallway. Like magic. Beautiful, light-haired, not so scary basketball guy, TJ. He deserves background music, he looks so good. “TJ. Kippen. TJ Kippen!” The bell rings, and I sail past Jonah. “I’ve gotta go! Talk later, Jonah!”

“Wait!” he calls out.

I run up to TJ and launch myself into his arms like a shot out of a cannon. I’ve got my arms around his neck and my legs hooked around his waist, and I don’t even know how my body knows how, because I’ve for sure never touched a boy like this in my life. It’s like we’re in a movie and the music is swelling and waves are crashing around us. Except for the fact that TJ’s expression is registering pure shock and disbelief and maybe a drop of amusement, because TJ likes to be amused. Raising his eyebrows, he says, “Um, hey, Cyrus.”

I don’t answer. I just kiss him.

My first thought is: I have muscle memory of his lips.

My second thought is: I hope Jonah is watching. He has to be watching or it’s all for nothing.

My heart is beating so fast, I forget for a moment, to be afraid of doing it wrong. Because, for about five seconds, I’m kissing TJ Kippen. And he is kissing me back. TJ Kippen, boy of fantasy, is kissing me back.

I pull away slowly, my eyes fluttering open to the same expression on TJ’s face.

“Thanks.” I say, very sincerely, jumping out of his arms.

“You’re welcome?”

And then I sprint off in the opposite direction.

. . . . .

“So…” TJ drawls, leaning against the locker next to mine later that day.

“So.” I nod shortly, hoping that he’ll drop it. I really don’t want to have this discussion with him right now, or ever. Hell, I don’t want to have this discussion with anybody ever. TJ clicked his tongue at my dismissiveness, shaking his head slowly.

“Cyrus,” He spoke softly, a hint of amusement peeking through. “We gotta talk about it. You jumped me in the middle of the hallway. And, I mean, I think you’re cute, in a quirky kind of way, but I don’t really swing that way.”

“Look, I just,” I closed my locker, and turned to face him, my science textbook clutched tight to my chest, my voice quiet. “That letter you got? My love letter?”

“Yeah?”

“You weren’t the only one who got one.”

“What?” TJ feigned hurt. “Wow, you think you’re special, and then you find out you’re not the only sucker who got a letter. Ouch!”

“Well, there were five letters, so don’t go getting a big head.”

“Five?” His eyes bug out, and I giggle a little. “Damn, Goodman, you’re a player!”

“Thanks?”

“So who are you trying to hide from?”

“Jonah.” I sigh, looking at him with a pout. “Jonah Beck.”

“Jonah Beck?” His brow furrows. “Doesn’t that guy date your best friend?”

“He used to.” I’m surprised he knows that. Jonah and Andi were never really on his radar, not even in middle school. “He used to date my best friend.”

“So now they’re broken up?”

“Yep.”

“And Jonah got a love letter from you.”

“Yeah.”

He inhales sharply, and grimaces. “Yikes, dude. So where do I come into all this?”

“I don’t want him to know I like him, for obvious reasons.” TJ nodded in understanding, and we start our walk to our science lab. “So, I told him you were my boyfriend.”

“So you used me to save face?”

“I mean… basically.”

TJ chuckles softly. “You’re a funny guy, Cyrus.”

First, I’m cute in a “quirky” way, and now I’m a funny guy. Man, talk about a brush off!

“Well, thanks for going along with it, TJ.”

“No problem.” He shrugs off the apology. “But, now that he thinks I’m your boyfriend, what are you gonna tell him?”

“I don’t know. I’m quirky like that.”

. . . . .

TJ pulls up in front of my house the next morning, honking the horn of his Audi as I walk out.

“Need a ride?” He asks casually, lowering his sunglasses to give me a onceover. I glance nervously down at the gray sweater I had pulled on today, fiddling awkwardly with the zipper. My white sneakers were still clean, thankfully, and the light jeans I had pulled from my armchair this morning were free of stains. I approached his car nervously, reaching to hold on to my backpack straps, and nodding slowly.

We drive mostly in silence, until he pulls to a stop about a mile from the school, and turns to face me.

“Um, TJ?” I squeak out, the scenarios out of all the true crime documentaries I had watched flashing through my head. This was starting to feel like an episode of Criminal Minds. Was TJ secretly some kind of sexual sadist? “We’re going to be late for first period.”

“You have study hall,” He waves me off. “And we need to talk.”

“About what?”

“Remember how yesterday you jumped me in the middle of the hallway, and kissed me in front of all those people?”

“No.” I deadpan, staring at him blankly.

“Har har,” He laughs sarcastically, and runs a hand through his hair. “Well, I need you to do that again.”

What?

“What?”

“Okay, not exactly that, but, like, stuff like that.”

“Again,” I stare at him, confused out of my mind. How did we get from serial killer to potential boyfriend? Not that I was complaining. “What?”

“Look, there’s this freshman on the girls basketball team, and she’s kind of obsessed with me.”

“Okay…”

“Obsessed with me to the point where it’s starting to get weird, Cyrus.” TJ turns in his seat, and meets my eyes. “Yesterday, she showed up at my house with cookies, and told my mom I was expecting her.”

“Oh my God!”

“I know.” He nods, sighs, and smiles at me sheepishly. “So, I told her that I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh.” I’m taken aback. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who panicked when confronted with unwarranted conversations about romance.

“Yeah.”

“So now you need me to pretend to be your boyfriend?”

“You don’t have to.” TJ backtracks, trying to give me an out. “I mean, it would be helpful, but you don’t have to.”

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” I ask, biting my lip.

“I don’t know. But I’m sure I’ll figure it out.” He puts the car in drive, and winks coyly at me. “ I’m egotistical like that.”

. . . . .

TJ had given me the day to think it through, just asking that I get back to him once I’d decided. The ball was in my court now, and I’d never been more anxious about something. It would be easier if I had Buffy to process this whole thing with, but I still wasn’t ready to talk to her. Andi would help me, sure, but she’s also a huge blabbermouth, so telling her a secret wouldn’t do me any good. So, I was on my own.

There were a lot of things to consider. Was helping my friend more important to me than my dignity? Yeah, it was. I couldn’t concern myself with thoughts of what could happen. However this ended up, I couldn’t worry about it. So, yeah, it wasn’t really a hard decision.

But, then again, I had always been known to be impulsive. So, when I ended up in the gym after school that day, passively watching basketball practice, and waiting for a chance to talk to TJ, really, was anyone surprised?

“Kippen!” I shouted, waving enthusiastically at TJ during a lull in practice. He turns to me, brow furrowed, before smiling and jogging over to me. I take a few steps forward, meeting him at the edge of the court, and grinning widely.

“Hey.” He greets simply, waiting for me to say something.

“Let’s do this.”

At my confirmation, TJ grins, and grabs me by my waist, dipping me slightly, and kissing me deeply. I’m vaguely aware of gasps and hollers behind me, but the sound of ocean waves crashing in my ears drowns them out. The kiss wasn’t long, but it felt never ending, and it left the strange mix of baby taters and chocolate pudding in my mouth.

When he pulls away, he winks at me, and smirks. “Thanks, sugar. I’ll see you later?”

All I can do is nod dumbly. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

. . . . .

TJ is waiting for me when I climb off the bus the next day, his hand outstretched, and his smile thin. I interlace my fingers with his, and give him a questioning look.

“Are you really taking the bus every day?”

“Well, hi, TJ! My night was great, thanks for asking! Yeah, Sandy was in charge of dinner, which is always funny, because she tries to make Jewish food for us, but doesn’t know how to cook anything but scrambled eggs. Yesterday, we had matzo ball soup, but she tried to make it vegan, because my dad is having heart problems, anyway, she-“

“Cyrus!”

“Yes, TJ?” I smile sweetly at him, and he narrows his eyes, like he can see right through me.

“The bus?”

“Oh, right!” I swing our arms a little, turning to walk backwards, so I can face him, and still hold on to his hand. “I got into a car accident, so my car is getting fixed right now.”

“Woah, holy shit!” He pulls me back towards him, wrapping an arm around my shoulder as we approach the doors. “Are you okay? How bad was it?”

“Eh, just a fender bender. I’m not that good of a driver. It’s a gay thing.”

TJ lets out a loud laugh, and we make our way down the hallway. It’s kind of intimidating, to be cuddled up with him, feeling everybody’s eyes on us. This is my first time holding hands with a boy down the school hallway. It should feel special, wonderful, momentous. But, it doesn’t. Because it’s not real. Honestly, it feels like nothing.

Buffy does a double take when she sees us. She’s at her locker with Marty, who I can see is showing her his letter. He glances at me tensely, and I smile back, and wave. Buffy raises her hand to wave back, but I glare at her before she can, and her hand lowers sadly.

TJ keeps stopping to say hi to people, and I stand there and smile, like I’ve been doing this forever. Like it’s normal, me and TJ Kippen, holding hands in the school hallway.

When we get to my locker, I drop his hand so I can dump my books. I’m shutting my locker door when TJ leans in to kiss me. I’m so startled, I turn my head quickly, and TJ gets my cheek, instead of my mouth. He jolts away, surprised at the change, and glares at me.

“What the heck, dude?”

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” I say defensively, crossing my arms. My eyes are narrowed now as well, and objectively, this interaction probably doesn’t look good to outsiders.

“I’m your boyfriend, dummy! We kiss, that’s what boyfriends do!”

“Don’t call me a dummy, you dummy!”

TJ sighs, like he’s annoyed with me, but just shakes his head, and reaches for my hand again.

“Come on, Underdog,” He croons. “I’ll walk you to study hall.”

“Sounds great. Just don’t try to lay anymore on me, yeah?”

. . . . .

Instead of taking the bus home, I end up in TJ’s car, at his insistence, and he takes me to The Spoon. We find a booth in the corner, and sit across from each other, a spiral notebook from my bag in between us. As he orders us baby taters and shakes, I open the notebook, and begin to write at the top of the page.

“What is this for?” He asks me after a moment of watching me write.

“We need to get our story straight.” I respond primly, turning the notebook so he can see what I’d written. “And I need to set some ground rules for you, clearly.”

TJ rolls his eyes, but pulls the pencil from behind his ear, and starts to write in the section neatly labeled “How Did We Get Together?”.

“What are you writing?” I shriek.

“Shut up, Goodman. This is good stuff, you’ll love it.” He’s still writing feverishly, and after a few minutes, he passes the notebook back to me, so I can read through what he’s written.

**_Cyrus and I have known each other since middle school. We met through his best friend, Buffy Driscoll, who joined the basketball team in eighth grade. She had me help him get a chocolate chocolate chip muffin, and I’ve been infatuated with him ever since. A little bit after the muffin, I ran into him at the park, and we had our first real conversation. That’s when I knew that he was special. We kissed at my fifteenth birthday party, and I never really got over it. After we went to high school, we kind of drifted apart, but I still thought about that kiss all the time. I’d had a couple of girlfriends since, but it never really felt right. After I broke up with Kelsey, I was taking a walk, late, and saw him at the park again, in the same spot I’d seen him all those years before. I took a chance, and went over to him. We talked for a while, and I told him that I never really got over him. He told me he felt the same way, and then I kissed him. He kissed me back, and then I asked him to be my boyfriend._ **

I looked up at TJ, who was grinning proudly, and sipping his shake. I nodded approvingly, my face bright red, and flipped the page.

“Okay,” I coughed, not meeting his eyes. “Now, our contract.”

“Our contract?”

I nod, and write clearly _**No kissing.**_

“Are people really gonna buy this if we never kiss?” TJ asks skeptically, picking up a baby tater, and popping it in his mouth.

“I just…” I sigh, and look up at him warily. “I don’t want all my firsts to be fake. There are ways to show someone you care without kissing them.”

He groans. “You’ve gotta give me something here, Cyrus. None of my friends are gonna buy that I turned into some kind of nun just to date you.”

“Nuns are only women.” I defend weakly, and TJ raises an eyebrow at me.

“How about a hand in your back pocket? It’ll be strictly professional, I swear.”

I don’t argue with him, just nod and write down _ **TJ can put his hand in Cyrus’ back pocket**_ obediently. This guy cares way too much about what other people think of him, but I would never say that out loud.

“What else?” I ask, and he just smirks.

“Well, since you want to save some stuff for a real boyfriend, we can do that.” Wow. Who knew this guy could be so thoughtful and generous? “Like, I won’t pay for anything. Or, take you on dates. I won’t walk you to class anymore, or buy you flowers.” Never mind.

“Yeah, I get the picture, Mr. Krabs.” I roll my eyes, and smooth out the notebook paper.

“But I can write you notes.” TJ offers.

“Notes?”

“Yeah!” He brightens. “One note a day! And I can put them in your locker, or pass them to you in science!”

I nod, and write down dutifully _**TJ will write Cyrus one note a day.**_

He leans across the table. “Write down that you have to go to some parties with me. And no rom coms!”

“Who said anything about rom coms?”

“I can just tell you watch them.”

I’m annoyed that he has me so pegged. I write _**NO DUMB ACTION MOVIES.**_

“Then what does that leave us with?” He demands.

“Superhero movies, horror movies, thriller movies, period movies, documentaries, foreign films-“

TJ makes a face, takes the pen, and writes in large block letters **_NO FOREIGN FILMS._** He also writes down _**Cyrus will make TJ’s picture his phone wallpaper.**_

“And vice versa!”

TJ clicks his tongue, pulling out his phone.

“You already know.” He says, showing me his phone screen. It’s a picture of me, looking down at the notebook, probably reading his story, and blushing wildly. I point my camera at him, blushing again, and he smiles cheekily. Ugh, it’s annoying how handsome he is.

“Um,” I clear my throat awkwardly, and gesture back to the notebook. “Write down that under no circumstances should we tell anybody the truth.”

“Duh,” TJ says, moving to write my suggestion down anyways. “First rule of Fight Club.”

“I’ve never seen that movie.”

He shakes his head. “Of course you haven’t.” I make a face at him. Note to self: watch Fight Club.

“What about an end date?” I ask suddenly.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” I move to sit beside him, and he scoots over to give me room. He gestures to the last baby tater in the basket, and I grin, popping it in my mouth. “How long are we doing this? Two weeks? A month?”

“Oh,” He shrugs. “For however long we feel like, I guess.”

“But isn’t it better to-“

“Goddamn, Goodman!” Cyrus laughs harshly, and gives me an irritated look. “Life doesn’t have to be so rehearsed all the time! Go with the flow, would ya?”

I sigh, and reluctantly agree, hastily signing the paper. He follows suit, wiggles his eyebrows at me, and throws a ten dollar bill on the table, then motions for me to stand. I do, and he crawls out after me, grabbing my hand, and tugging me toward him. He drives me home, and kisses me on the cheek, waving to my mom as he drives off.

Man, am I screwed.

. . . . .

_**Dear Cyrus,** _

_**Here’s your first note, Underdog. Good job today.** _

_**TJ** _

. . . . .

Before fourth period, about a week later, I’m standing at my locker, trying to find my precalc homework in the mess that is my binder.

“Cyrus?” A small voice sounds from behind me, and I freeze. Please, God, not now.

“Yeah?”

And there he is. Walker Brodsky, in a sapphire sweater and khakis, one hand shoved in his pocket, and the other clutching a teal envelope.

“I’ve had this for a while now,” He says, in that Walker way, gentle and sweet. “I wasn’t gonna say anything, but I figured you’d want it back.”

He hands me the envelope, and I giggle uncomfortably, before running a hand through my hair.

“So, you probably want to know what this is about.”

“Not really,” He shrugs. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Cyrus. It was nice to get a letter like that, but I figured it was written a long time ago, and I mean, you know I’m into Andi, so…”

I let out a relieved sigh, and lean against my locker. Walker always knows exactly what to say to make me feel better.

We smile at each other, and we set off down the hall together, me heading to Spanish, and him to French. He asks me about TJ along the way, and I’m almost tempted to tell him the truth, because I’m feeling so close to him. But I signed a contract, and I won’t go against my word. So when he nudges my shoulder and asks what’s going on with me and Kippen, I just shrug and give him a shy smile.

“It’s crazy, right? He’s just so…” I search for a perfect word to describe TJ, but there isn’t one. I can’t think of a single word that encompasses his snark, and his gentleness, and his passion, and his insecurity. He’s just too complex. “He could play the role of the handsome guy in a movie.” I say finally, then hastily add, “But, so could you. You’d play the guy the main character should pick.”

Walker laughs, but I can tell he likes it.

. . . . .

_**Dear Walker,** _

_**I’ve never met a boy with manners as good as yours. You should have a British accent. I mean, seriously, I feel like I’m hanging out with a prince whenever I’m with you. It’s starting to make me self conscious.** _

_**Oh, Walker! I wish I knew what you liked in a person. As far as I can tell, you haven’t dated anyone . . . unless you have a boyfriend or girlfriend at another school. You’re just so mysterious. I hardly know a thing about you. The things I know are so unsubstantial, so unsatisfying, like that you eat a chicken sandwich every day at lunch, and you’re on the golf team. I guess the one remotely real thing I know about you is you’re a good writer, which must mean you have deep reserves of emotion. Like that short story you wrote in creative writing about the poisoned well, and it was from a six-year-old boy’s perspective. It was so sensitive, so keen! That story made me feel like I knew you at least a little bit. But I don’t know you, and I wish I did.** _

_**I think you’re very special. I think you are probably one of the most special people at our school, and I wish more people knew that about you. Or, maybe I don’t, because sometimes it’s nice to be the only one who knows something.** _

_**Always and Forever,** _  
_**Cyrus** _

. . . . .

“Hey, Cyrus!” Jonah calls after me on my way to TJ’s car, and I can hear him running to catch up. I stop and wait for him at the edge of the parking lot, watching him try to catch his breath as he grins at me. “I’ve been trying to catch you all day.”

“Oh,” I’m surprised. Jonah and I are friends, like, best friends, but ever since he and Andi broke up, and my letters went out, he’d been sort of avoiding me. It actually kind of stung, but I didn’t really have a whole lot of time to think about how to rectify the situation. “I didn’t realize. What’s up?”

“I want to say something to you, but I feel weird bringing it up. Which is also weird, because we’ve always been able to talk to each other.”

“We can still talk to each other,” I say. “Nothing’s changed.”

“Okay. I feel like you’ve been avoiding me ever since Andi broke up with me.”

My head snaps up. That’s what he thinks? That I’m avoiding him? I thought he’d been avoiding me! And even if I had been avoiding him, it definitely wouldn’t be because of Andi. Had my letter really had that little of an impact that he didn’t remember the colossal embarrassment I was suffering from?

“I haven’t been avoiding you, Jonah.” I say carefully. “I’ve just been busy.”

“With Kippen, I know. It’s just… you and I have known each other for a long time, Cy. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

Too. With one word, he’d effectively made this about me and him and Andi, not just me and him. Always, there’s a distinction. Always, it’s her, and not me. With Kenny, with Walker, with Jonah. I was getting real tired of just being a “too”.

“We’ll always be friends, Jonah.” I tell him half-heartedly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “And you know I’m here whenever you need me.”

He smiles widely, and practically jumps with excitement. “So we can hang out again?”

“Sure.” I agree, uneasily.

“Cool! Maybe I can give you a ride to school tomorrow! I’ll text you!”

“Yeah.” I nod, and we part, him taking off towards his Chevy, me continuing to TJ’s car. I climb in the passenger seat silently, and stare blankly out the window.

“Cyrus?” TJ asks, resting a hand on my thigh. “You okay?”

I nod, and grab his hand, interlacing my fingers with his as he pulls out of the parking lot, and towards the park.

I don’t know why I’m sad. Wasn’t this the point? To go back to normal? To just be his good friend Cyrus again?

. . . . .

_**Tart and Tangy after school?** _

_**_ Yes** _

_**_ No** _

_**Xo,** _  
_**TJ** _

. . . . .

At Tart and Tangy that afternoon, TJ and I find a corner booth again, and sit across from each other like we had that day at The Spoon.

“So, what’s going on?” I ask him, not wanting to beat around the bush. I know he asked me here for a reason, and I don’t want to spend a half hour making small talk as build up to a real conversation.

He shrugs. “Nothing. Just wanted to hang out.” I give him a skeptical look, and he sighs. “People need to think we’re actually dating. If we never hang out, that looks bad.”

I mull his words over, and nod, accepting the answer, and eating another bite of frozen yogurt. The next few minutes are filled with mindless conversation, the words flowing easily. There’s never a lull, and we’re laughing hysterically almost the whole time. TJ is actually pretty fun to  
hang out with.

“Cyrus?” I hum in acknowledgment, and take a bite of my yogurt. “How did you know you were in love with me?”

I feel my throat catch, and I begin to cough heavily around my yogurt. TJ looks alarmed, and goes to move to my side of the table, before I brush his advance off, swallowing harshly.

“What the hell, TJ?”

“Sorry,” He shrugged. “Just curious.”

“I…” I don’t know if I should really dignify his question with an honest response. “I don’t know if I really loved you. I loved you in the way I could, back then, but what do I really know about love? I was only fourteen, and I could barely tell my right from my left half the time.”

“Fourteen isn’t that young. A hundred years ago, girls got married at that age.”

“I don’t think that’s completely accurate,” I bite my lip, and tilt my head. “Besides, a hundred years is a long time. That’s before electricity, and the internet. A hundred years ago, you and I would have been sent off to battle in some war, with a bayonet, and our life on the line. Do I look like I could handle war?”

“No offense,” TJ grimaces. “Absolutely not.”

We laugh for a while, the conversation forgotten, as we move on to that week’s math work. We drone on, for maybe another twenty minutes, before TJ is digging again.

“I saw you talking to Jonah the other day.” I nod absentmindedly. “He must really have a hold on you.”

I think he expects me to deny it, but I don’t. I can’t. Instead, I say, “He does. But I wish he didn’t.”

“That’s why we’re doing this.” He reminds me, smiling warmly at me. I want to smile back, but I’m trapped in thoughts about Jonah right now.

“I just want…” I look at TJ determinedly. “I want to prove that I don’t belong with him. Or, to him.”

Andi would say she belongs to herself. Buffy would say she belongs to no one. And I guess I would say I belong to Buffy, Jonah, and Andi, but that won’t always be true. To belong to someone… I didn’t know it, but now that I think about, it seems like that’s all I’ve ever wanted. To really be somebody’s, and to have them be mine.

“Is there a difference?”

“Sure.” I shrug, plucking a strawberry out of his yogurt casually. “One implies choice, the other doesn’t.”

“You must really love him to go through all this trouble.” TJ whispers. He seems kind of… disappointed about it.

“You know, for someone who pretends to be a quiet, brooding asshole most of the time, you sure have an awful lot of opinions about my love life.”

TJ laughs, and grins. “You’re just saying that because no one has ever been honest with you before.”

“Okay, fine.”I lean back in my seat, looking at him searchingly. “Be honest with me, then. Why haven’t you ever been in a serious relationship before?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, and looks away from me. “I guess no one's ever really liked me enough for that.”

“Lie,” I lean forward, and give him an accusing look, shaking my head. “I know for a fact Kelsey Panaker was willing to give it up to you last year at homecoming, but you chickened out, and broke up with her.”

“Oh, keeping tabs on me, Goodman?”

“You wish! She stopped showing up to yearbook because you were in, like, half the pictures, and she couldn’t stand seeing your face.” We both laugh for a moment, but the mood sobers at our silence. I reach for his hand. “Hey. Talk to me.”

TJ gives a reluctant sigh. “Okay, so, love and dating?” He tightens his hold on my hand, just a little, but enough that I notice. “It's nice and all. I mean, they make movies about it, you read books about it, and it’s nice to think about, and stuff. It’s just, when it’s real…”

“What? It’s scary?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” I'm intensely focused on him, hanging on every word he says. “Why is that scary?”

“Because…” His eyes get watery, but he blinks whatever was there away, and pulls his hand from mine. “The more people that you let into your life, the more that can just walk right out.”

“Well, what about right now?” I ask.

“What do you mean?”

“Right here, right now. You say that you’re afraid of commitment, and love, and relationships. But you don’t seem to be afraid with me.” I’m fishing. I know I’m fishing. I want him to admit that whatever the hell just happened here was real. That he felt it too. The connection, the togetherness, the… belonging.

“Well, that’s because we’re just pretending.” He shrugs.

“Right.” The words sting more than they should. “Pretending.”

. . . . .

TJ’s mom owns an antiques shop called McCalls, that’s right by my favorite bookstore downtown. She sells mostly furniture, but she’s got some really cool stuff too, like this oval locket that’s got diamonds circling it. It’s four hundred dollars, and believe me, if I had that kind of money, it would be mine in an instant. Since I always pass it, I sometimes go in and browse through her stuff.

Today, TJ is there when I stop in, coming out from around back as I lean over a display case. He pokes my sides, and I jolt. He wraps an arm around my waist when I jump back, and pulls me into him, placing a kiss on my nose.

“Hey, muffin.”

“Hey.” I giggle nervously, wrapping an arm around his neck. “What are you doing here?”

“Just dropping something off for my mom, and getting the address to the estate sale I’m going to tomorrow.”

“Oh,” I fake a pout, and his smile widens. “So you won’t be around?”

“Not in town,” He answers, moving his arm from my waist, so he could grab my hand. “But you’re welcome to come with me to Huntsburgh.”

“Really?” I perk up. “I’ve always wanted to go to an estate sale!”

TJ laughs. “Great. I’ll pick you up at seven, tomorrow?”

“Wait, seven? You never said anything about waking up early on a Saturday!”

“Sorry,” He says contritely. “We have to go early, before all the good stuff gets snatched up.”

. . . . .

I’m up at six forty-five that morning, being well aware of TJ’s lack of time management. I figured he would be at least fifteen minutes late, so I’m packing lunches for us- roast beef sandwiches with cheese and tomato, mayo for me, and mustard for TJ. I wrap them in wax paper, and pack them in paper sacks that are already neatly labeled with our names.

I wait by the window, and at seven thirty, TJ pulls up, and I’m out the door, sandwiches and camera in hand. I hop in the car, and before I can say anything, TJ is apologizing.

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry. But, look what I brought you!” He passes me a doughnut, still warm. “I got it from The Spoon, as soon as they opened, which is why I’m late. Cream cheese frosting, right?”

I break off a piece, and pop it in my mouth, practically moaning with delight. I break another piece off and feed it to him.

“There’s my adoring boyfriend.” I tease.

“So, I did the right thing?” His voice is eager, genuine. “By being late?”

I nod. “The exact right thing.” I answer, my mouth full. “This is the best donut I’ve ever had.”

He takes one look at me, and starts to laugh. “You have frosting all over your face.”

I wipe my face with the other side of the napkin, then look at him expectantly. He shakes his head, and reaches over, using his thumb to wipe away the frosting I missed on my cheek. His gaze lingers a little too long on me, but a car horn shocks him out of the moment. He coughs awkwardly, and turns away from me. Then, it was quiet, which made me nervous.

“Do you want me to play some music?”

“Actually, do you mind if we just… drive in quiet for a while?”

“Oh, yeah,” I’m not sure if I did something wrong, or if this is just one of his quirks. “No problem. Do you want me to be quiet, too?”

“No!” He’s quick to object to my pseudo-offer. “I mean, you can talk. I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” I nod, and hesitate. “Can I make this weird?”

He looks at me, alarmed. “Weird how?”

“Wait, no, stop imagining horrible things!” I exclaim quickly, making him laugh. “I just want to play twenty questions!”

“You can just ask me questions, Cyrus,” TJ tells me, glancing over at me quickly and darting his eyes back to the road. “You don’t have to make it into a game.”

I flush, and lean against his arm sleepily, for only half a second, before pulling away. “What’s your favorite food?”

“My favorite food?”

“Yeah,” I rest my head on my hands, and look at him, attention rapt. “Like, if you were o a desert island and could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Realistically? Probably bananas, or coconuts, or something, right?” He jokes.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do, He smiles softly at me, and smooths down my hair. “Cinnamon toast.”

“Cinnamon toast?” I crinkle my nose, and give him a confused look.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘till you try it!” He defends, laughing. “I could eat cinnamon toast all day, everyday, but I'll eat almost anything you put in front of me, as long as it’s not mayo or celery.”

“Fair enough,“ I shrug, letting us fall into a short silence. “I like baby taters. In case you were wondering.”

“I know, Cyrus.” He smiles, and takes my hand. “I know lots of things about you.”

“Oh yeah?” I challenge, raising a brow. “Like what?”

“Like…” He trails off, biting his lip, and looks at me. “Even though you haven’t talked to Buffy since the first day of school, you still bring her a piece of whatever you baked the night before, and you leave it in her locker for her to find.”

My gaze turns shocked. How the heck did he know that? And why is he calling me out on it now? “That accusation is unfounded.”

He looks at me again, sadly this time, squeezing my hand comfortingly. “And I know you miss her.”

“Yeah, well,” I pull my hand away from him. “She shouldn't have done what she did.”

“You have to forgive her sometime, Cy.” TJ says seriously, glancing at me nervously. “But I’m not gonna push you.”

“Thank you.” I say primly. I wait a beat, then reach for his hand again. “Next question?”

. . . . .

TJ had invited me over for dinner this weekend with his mom and little brother yesterday, so when Saturday rolls around, I’m nervously pacing my room, trying to figure out what to wear. You’re supposed to look nice for this kind of thing, I figured, but I had no idea what I was doing. I wasn’t didn’t want to wear my old bar mitzvah suit, because there was a good chance it didn’t fit me anymore, but everything else I had in my closet seemed too boring and everyday. This would be a lot easier if I had help. But did I really want to go there? Yes, I did.

“Buffy, you gotta help me!” I’m yelling into the phone a few seconds later, completely panicked.

“Cyrus? What’s going on?” Her voice is frantic and confused, but I have no time to feel bad about making her worry, because TJ is going to be here any minute.

“I’m having dinner at TJ’s tonight, with his mom, and I have no idea what I’m doing!”

“Breathe, Cyrus.” Buffy has always been good at  
calming me down. Her voice is soothing, and she knows to give me specific advice, so I have no room to get more worried. “Wear your blue sweater with your black jeans. That way you look nice, but not like you’re trying too hard.”

“Thank you! You’re a lifesaver!” I feel like I can breathe again, and I pull my blue sweater off its’ hanger, feeling secure in the decision.

“You’re welcome.” Her voice is suddenly timid, as if she’s just remembered the current state of our friendship. “Cyrus?”

“Yeah, Buff?” I say it absentmindedly, more focused on pulling on my sweater and jeans.

“I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” It slips out before I can even think about it, but it’s true. I do miss her. It’s been hard not talking to her for the past two months, and it’s killing me to not have her around. TJ’s horn knocks me out of my thoughts, and I know I don’t have time to make up with Buffy right now. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Of course. Love you.” Her voice is still quiet, but far more assured. She sounds like my best friend again. Like the girl that I’ve known since second grade.

“Love you.”

. . . . .

I’ve met TJ’s mom before, but never like this. Usually, she’s pretty cool and casual, but tonight, she is a pasta making machine. She’s acting like a fifties housewife, from the way she’s bustling around, to the dinner she prepared.

We’re a few minutes into dinner, and mindless conversation, when it all goes to hell.

“You’re so well mannered, Cyrus.” Miss Trowbridge compliments warmly, clearly hoping that flattery is the way to my heart.

“Thank you.”

“Your mom must love having you around. Such a nice boy, compared to my heathens.”

I open my mouth to answer her, but TJ jumps in before I can. “Cyrus’ mom passed away during freshman year, Mom.”

She pales. “Oh my God, I am so sorry. I remember that now.”

“How’d she die?” TJ’s brother, Owen, asks, intrigued.

“Owen!” TJ reprimands, giving him a fierce look.

“It’s okay, Teej.” I shake my head, and give him a thin smile, hoping he gets the message to drop it. “She had a brain aneurysm. We didn’t even know until she was gone.”

“Oh.” He sounds disappointed, and I look away awkwardly, turning back to my salad. TJ reaches for my hand, and squeezes it three times, He gives me a warm look, and I smile back at him.

We eat silently for the rest of dinner, the mood ruined by the incredible awkward conversation about my dead mother. TJ is given clean up duty, and I follow him into the kitchen when he goes, carrying a stack of dishes.

“Hey,” He turns to me and pauses after a few minutes of silence. “I’m really sorry about what my mom said.”

“No, it’s okay.” I shrug him off, and hand him the last dish in my stack. “Honestly, it’s kind of nice to talk about her like it’s normal. Like it’s not some tragedy.”

I move from his side finally, opting to walk over to the large granite countertop, and lean against it. I look around the room, at all the pictures on the wall, and, eager to end the uncomfortable silence, asked, “Is it weird not having your dad around?”

“It’s not as weird as it used to be.” He sighs. “But, sometimes, I walk around the house, and see he’s not in any photos anymore, and I really miss him.” I nod, understandingly at the hurt in TJ’s eyes, but it’s quickly replaced by his tough guy exterior. “But then, I think about all the stuff that he’s doing with his new family, that he used to do with us, and I get so mad that I’m glad he’s gone.”

“You don’t mean that.” I shake my head, and look down at my lap. “You can be mad at someone, and still miss them.”

A beat of silence. “I bet you really miss your mom, huh?”

“Yeah.” I nod, about to cry. “Every day.” TJ puts his hand on my knee, and I smile wetly at him. “The thing is, sometimes I’ll wake up, and I’ll just forget. I think about going downstairs, and telling her good morning, and it’s like she’s still alive. But it only ever happens for, like, a quarter of a second. And then it’s gone. And so is she.”

I let out a sob, and TJ is in my space immediately, wrapping his arms around me tightly. I hug him back, clutching onto his shirt, and he begins to rock slowly.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He whispers into my hair. “It’s okay.”

“I miss her so much.” My voice is quiet, too; I’m trying not to terrify Owen and TJ’s mom. “I can pretend most of the time that it’s not so bad, that I’ve grieved, and moved on, but how do you really move on from something like that? How do you just pretend that your mom was never there?”

He doesn’t say anything else, and instead just holds me, tucking me tighter into him, and pressing his nose into my hair. We don’t leave the kitchen until I’ve stopped crying, and he rushes me out the door so that I can avoid further questioning from his mom. He holds my hand the whole way home.

. . . . .

**_Cyrus-_ **

**_Can I come over tonight to get help with math? We’ve got a test coming up._ **

**_Thanks,_ **  
**_TJ_ **

. . . . .

Jonah’s parents fight a lot, so he ends up at someone else’s house most nights. He usually went to Andi’s, or to someone on his frisbee team’s, but he had spent the night once or twice here. When he was younger, he used to walk the twelve blocks in his pajamas, and stay until his mom cane looking for him. It’s not really something we ever talk about. Maybe him and Andi, but never him and me.

So, when Jonah showed up on my doorstep at six that night, I knew that it was bad. I’m setting up the kitchen with snacks and drinks for my study session with TJ. My notes from last year are in the center of the table, with a row of multi-colored highlighters, kettle corn, and a plate of peanut butter brownies I baked this afternoon. The doorbell distracts me, and when I open the door, I’m surprised to see Jonah there.

“Hey,” He smiles at me sheepishly. “Can I hang out here for a bit?”

I glance at the table. “Um, sure.” I let him in, almost reluctantly, and he immediately eyes the kitchen.

“Did you have plans?” He looks back at me, raising an eyebrow. He looks almost…challenging. What does he care if I have plans?

“Yeah, actually, but not until eight.”

“With Kippen?”

“Well, he is my boyfriend.” I laugh shortly, and move towards the living room. “Who else would I be having candle lit study sessions with?”

Jonah sighs, and watches as I take a seat on the couch. He follows me, sitting on the opposite end, not fully relaxing. His back is stiff, and I can tell we’re about to get into a fight. He always gets like this when he fights with me.

“I can’t believe you’re dating Kippen.” He says finally, his tone harsh.

“Why?” I have to admit, his words kind of irritate me. I spent years mooning over this guy, and he never showed an interest, but now that I showed up with someone else on my arm, he cared? And what can’t he believe about it, exactly? “Is it so unbelievable that someone could like me?”

“No!” He shakes his head, backtracking. “It’s just… you’re this sweet, innocent guy, and he’s a complete dick! I don’t get it.”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” I’m feeling defensive now, cagey. What the hell is this guy doing, showing up at my house after ignoring me for weeks, after choosing my best friend over me, after completely ignoring everything I’ve felt for him since middle school?

Jonah rolls his eyes. “Just… be careful. I don’t want to see you hurt by that guy.” He says it in a patronizing older brother kind of way, that makes me want to scream.

“Jonah! He won’t hurt me. Geez.”

“He’s a douche. I’m sorry, but he is. All the guys on the basketball team are. Guys like Kippen, they only care about one thing. As soon as they get what they want, they’re bored.”

“That’s not fair.” I’m getting increasingly defensive. “You don’t know anything about TJ.”

“And you do?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Cyrus, you barely know this guy! You haven’t talked to him since middle school!”

“I know plenty about him.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s his favorite food?”

I laugh at the irony of the situation. Thank God I’d had this conversation with him on Saturday. “Cinnamon toast, actually. But he’ll eat anything you put in front of him, as long as it’s not mayonnaise or celery.”

Jonah is taken aback by the thoroughness of my answer. He looks at me skeptically, and I glare at him. Eventually, he just sighs, and puts his head in his hands. “Just trust me. You haven’t had much experience with guys, Cyrus.”

Quietly, I ask, “How would you know?”

Jonah gives me an Oh, come on look. “Because I know you.”

“Not as well as you think.” I snap. I rise from the couch, and walk over to the kitchen. “I think you should go.”

. . . . .

My friends and I always plan our Halloween costumes months in advance. This is so we can get costumes at better prices, and before they’re out of stock. Luckily for me, I had procrastinated on buying my costume this year, so when TJ asked if I wanted to match costumes with him, my answer was an immediate yes. He and the basketball team were going as superheroes, and he had called dibs on Human Torch, who he’d apparently claimed as an underappreciated favorite when the Fantastic Four remake came out. Because of this, I was going as Spider-man, even though I was supposed to be going as the Ron Weasley to Jonah’s Harry Potter.

I’m outside, waiting for TJ, who is late again, to pick me up for school, and picking at jeans, when my attention is drawn elsewhere.

“Hey,” Jonah’s voice is booming, but friendly, as he calls to me from his car. “You’re not dressed as Ron Weasley!”

“Uh, no,” I flush, pulling the messenger bag holding my costume closer to me. “TJ and I are going in a couples costume.”

“Oh.” His face falls, and he gives me a once-over. “What are you supposed to be?”

“You’ll find out at the assembly.” I wink, and shuffle my feet.

“Fair enough. Do you need a ride?”

“No,” If I go to school with Jonah, I can go to the bathroom before class. I can go to my locker, get a juice from the vending machine, and take my sweet time getting to homeroom. But, my loyalty lies with TJ- at least in public. “I’m getting a ride with TJ.”

“Oh, yeah… right.” Jonah nods, and drives off, leaving me to sit on the curb, knees against my chest. When TJ finally pulls up, I climb into his car without a word, and put my bag across my lap, effectively cutting him off from physical contact with me.

“Hey, Cy.” He greets me warmly, just like usual, and a pang of guilt hits me.

“Jonah offered me a ride to school today. Because you were late again.”

“Oh.”

“I told him no,” I clarify quickly. “Obviously. I just wanted you to know.”

TJ nods, and doesn’t say anything for the rest of the ride.

. . . . .

After the Halloween assembly, I’m getting my chem book out of my locker, when TJ comes over, and leans against the locker next to mine.

“Hey,” I say. He doesn’t say anything back, just stands there, arms crossed. “So, you won best junior costume! Congrats, boyfriend.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

“What else am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t like that Jonah takes a pit stop by your house in the mornings. That’s weird to me.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be an issue if you were on time.”

“This has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with the fact that Jonah Beck is being a shady asshole!”

“Can I use these web shooters to spiderweb your mouth shut?”

I pretend to shoot a web at him, then cover his mouth with my hand. He tries to say something, but I press harder. Then, he reaches out and tickles me, and I laugh so hard that I almost fall over. He steadies me, and I dart away from him as soon as I’m stable, but he pounces after me, pretend heat blasting me through the halls. He gives chase all the way to chem class, where we collapse in our seats, giggling, much to the dismay of the teacher. Halfway through class, he passes me a note decorated with drawings of spider webs, fire, and hearts. I smile as I read it. Then I put it in my backpack, in my Spanish textbook, so the page won’t crease or crumble. I want to keep it so when this is over, I can have something to look at and remember what it was like to be TJ Kippen’s boyfriend. Even if it was all just pretend.

. . . . .

**_Cyrus-_ **

**_I’ll be on time tomorrow. I promise._ **  
**_Love ya, you destructive dummy._ **

**_TJ_ **

. . . . .

TJ asks if we can hang out at my house after school, and I say yes. I warn him that my parents won’t be home, but he doesn’t seem to mind so much, even though the very thought of being completely alone with him is sending my anxiety skyrocketing.

When we pull up to the house, Mrs. Galperin, my next door neighbor, is standing at my front door with her daughter. She grins when she sees me, and Loren is barreling towards me, and jumping into my arms.

“Spider-man!” She cries, her sticky hands coming to rest on my cheeks. Her mom smiles sheepishly at me, but seems too frazzled to pay it attention too long.

“Cyrus!” Mrs. Galperin approaches me and TJ, who just seems confused out of his mind. “I’m so sorry to do this on such short notice, but is there any way you can watch Loren for a few hours? I have a dermatology appointment, and would prefer not to bring her.” She glances over at TJ, and gives me a surprised look. “Who’s your friend?”

“I’m TJ, ma’am,” He shakes her hand politely, and she looks impressed. “I’m hanging out at Cyrus’ this afternoon, so as long as you’re okay with that, we’d be happy to hang out with Princess Cinderella.” TJ smiles at Loren, and tickles her lightly. She smiles at him shyly, and buries her head in my shoulder.

“That’s totally fine!” Mrs. Galperin adjusts her purse on her shoulder, kisses me on the cheek, and tweaks her daughter’s nose. “Have fun, you three!”

“Sorry about this,” I say as soon as we’re in the door. We head to the couch, Loren still clinging to my neck, and sit. “I watch Loren a lot, because I never really have any other plans, so I’m available to do it on short notice.”

“I don’t mind,” TJ assures me. “I love kids.”

It takes Loren a minute to climb out of my arms, but when she does, she’s as much of a firecracker as usual. She’s instantly in TJ’s face, asking him all kinds of questions, and chatting up a storm.

“Cyrus is my boyfriend,” She tells him matter of factly. “I’m gonna marry him.” She says this to me all the time, and I never have much of a reaction, but this time, watching TJ’s eyes twinkle as she tells him, I blush.

“But what if I want to marry him?” He asks her seriously. She thinks for a moment.

“Well, do you know the wedding dance?”

“The wedding dance?”

“You can only get married if you know how to dance like a princess.” She tells him, face solemn. “I can teach you if you don’t know how.”

So TJ stands, and winks at me. Then, he turns and bows to Loren, accepting her hand, and twirling her around the room. I watch them dance all afternoon, my neighbor the princess, and my pretend boyfriend Human Torch. First I laugh, but then a worrying thought comes out of nowhere- I can’t let Loren get too attached to TJ. This is temporary. The way Loren looks at him, so adoringly, like he’s her hero...

Later, when Loren’s mom has picked her up, and TJ has to leave, I walk him out to his car. Before he gets in, I say, “I don’t think you should come over when I have to babysit anymore. It’s confusing to Loren.”

Frowning, he says, “How is it confusing to her?”

“Because, when our… thing is over, she’s going to miss you.”

“I’ll still see the kid around.” TJ pokes me in the stomach. “I want joint custody.”

All I can think of is how patient he was with her, how sweet. Impulsively I get up on my tiptoes and kiss him on the corner of the mouth, and he jerks back in surprise.

“What was that for?”

My cheeks feel scalded. I say, “For being so nice to Loren.” Then I wave goodbye and I run into the house. I am so fucked.


	2. part two: november - december

For dinner the night before, I had made piroshki, a fried dough ball with cheese filling. At the lunch table, TJ and his friends can’t get enough of them. I only get to eat three. “These are so good,” TJ keeps saying. When he reaches for the last one, he stops short and quickly looks up at me to see if I noticed.

“You can have it,” I say. I know what he’s thinking of. The last baby tater.

“No, it’s all right, I’m good.”

“Have it.”

“I don’t want it!”

I pick up the dough ball with my fingers and put it in his face. “Say ‘ah.’ ”

Stubbornly he says, “No. I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of being right.”

Darrell, some guy that’s on the basketball team with TJ, hoots with laughter. “I’m jealous of you, Kippen. I wish I had a girl to feed me my lunch. Cyrus, if he doesn’t take it, I will.” He leans forward and opens his mouth for me.

TJ shoves him to the side and says, “Step off, it’s mine!” He opens his mouth and I pop it in like he’s a seal at Sea World. With his mouth full of melted cheese and his eyes closed, he says, “Yum yum yum.”

I smile, because it’s so cute. And for a second, just for a second, I forget. I forget that this isn’t real.  
  
TJ swallows the food in his mouth and says, “What’s wrong? Why do you look sad?”

“I’m not sad. I’m hungry because you guys ate my lunch.” I cross my eyes at him to show him I’m joking.

Immediately TJ pushes out his chair and stands up. “I’m gonna get you a sandwich.”

I grab his sleeve. “Don’t. I’m just kidding.”

“Are you sure?” I nod, and he sits back down. “If you’re hungry later, we can stop somewhere on the way home.”

“About that,” I say. “My car’s fixed now, so I won’t be needing you to give me rides anymore.”

“Oh, really?” TJ leans back in his chair. “I don’t mind picking you up, though. I know you hate to drive.”

“The only way I’ll get better is if I practice,” I say, feeling like Andi. Andi the Good. “Besides, now you’ll get back your extra five minutes of sleep.”

TJ grins. “True.”

****

. . . . .

****

After school, I get a text from Jonah.

**jonah freaking beck: You, me, and the diner like old times.**

Except old times would have included Andi and Buffy. Now it’s new times, I suppose. Maybe that’s not altogether a bad thing. New can be good.

**cyguy: ok but i’m getting my own order of baby taters because you always hog more than your fair share.**

**jonah freaking beck: Deal.**

****

We’re sitting in our booth by the jukebox.

I wonder what Andi and Buffy are doing right now. It’s a Friday, so maybe they’re getting ready for a movie night. I don’t know if they continued them after I stopped talking to them, but I suddenly wish I did. It’s a Good Hair Tradition to do weekly movie nights. Would they continue them with half the pack missing? Maybe. Maybe not.

I hold my hand out for quarters. A Cyrus-and-Jonah tradition, the only one we really have. Jonah always gives me quarters for the jukebox. It’s because he keeps mounds of them in his car for the tollbooth, and I never have quarters because I hate change.

I can’t decide if I want doo-wop or folksy guitar, but then at the last second I put in “Video Killed the Radio Star,” for Andi. So, in a way, it’s like she’s here, as a reminder to both me and Jonah.

Jonah smiles when it comes on. “I knew you’d pick that.”

“No you didn’t, because I didn’t know I was going to until I did.” I pick up my menu and study it like I haven’t seen it a million times.

Jonah is still smiling. “Why bother looking at the menu when we already know what you’re going to get?”

“I could change my mind at the last second,” I say. “There’s a chance I could order a tuna melt or a turkey burger or a chef salad. I can be adventurous too, you know.”

“Sure,” Jonah agrees, and I know he’s just humoring me.

The server comes over to take our order and Jonah says, “I’ll have a grilled cheese and a tomato soup and a chocolate milkshake.” He looks at me expectantly. There’s a smile coming up on the corners of his lips.

“Ah... um...” I scan the menu as fast as I can, but I don’t actually want a tuna melt or a turkey burger or a chef salad. I give up. I like what I like. “An order of baby taters, please. And a black-cherry soda.” As soon as the server is gone, I say, “Don’t say a word.”

“Oh, I wasn’t going to.”

And then, because there’s a silence, we both speak at the same time. I say, “Have you talked to Andi lately?” and he says, “How are things going with Kippen?”

Jonah’s easy smile fades and he looks away. “Yeah, we chat online sometimes. I think she misses me. Us.”

I give him a funny look. “The last time I talked to her she seemed really final in her decision. What happened?”

“I just think it’s become real. I mentioned that I was looking at colleges overseas.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Would you do that?” Jonah asks. “Would you go somewhere far away?”

I sigh. “No, probably not. That’s you, not me. It’d be nice to visit, though.”

“Gonna come see me in Paris, huh?” He laughs awkwardly, and then he clears his throat. “So wait, how are things going with Kippen?”

Before I can answer, the server comes back with our food. Jonah pushes the bowl of soup so it’s in the middle of the table. “First sip?” he asks, holding up the milkshake.

Eagerly I nod and lean across the table. Jonah holds the glass and I take a long sip. “Ahhh,” I say, sitting back down.

“That was a pretty big sip,” he says. “How come you never get your own?”

“Why should I when I know you’ll share?” I pop a baby tater in my mouth.

“So you were saying?” Jonah prods. When I stare at him blankly, he says, “You were about to talk about Kippen...”

I was hoping this wouldn’t come up. I’m not in the mood to tell more lies to Jonah. “Things are good.” Because Jonah is looking at me like he’s expecting something more, I add, “He’s really sweet.”

Jonah snorts.

“He’s not what you’d think. People are so quick to judge him, but he’s different.” I’m surprised to find I’m telling the truth. TJ isn’t what you’d think. He is cocky and he can be obnoxious and he’s always late, true, but there are other good and surprising things about him too. “He’s not what you think.”

Jonah gives me a dubious look. Then he dunks half his sandwich into the soup and says, “You already said that.”

“That’s because it’s true.” He shrugs at this like he doesn’t believe me. So I say, “You should see the way Loren acts around TJ. She’s crazy about him.” I don’t realize it until the words are actually out of my mouth, but I say it to hurt him.

Jonah tears off a hunk of grilled cheese. “Well, I hope she doesn’t get too attached.” Even though I’ve had that exact same thought for different reasons, it still hurts to hear.

Suddenly the easy Jonah-and–Cyrus feeling is lost. Jonah is withdrawn and closed off, and I’m stinging from what he said about TJ, and it feels like playacting to sit across from each other and pretend it’s the same as old days. How could it be, when it’s just the two of us?

“Hey,” Jonah says suddenly. I look up. “I didn’t mean that. That was a shitty thing to say.” He ducks his head. “I guess... I don’t know, maybe I’m just jealous. I’m not used to sharing you.”

I go soft inside. Now that he’s said this nice thing, I am feeling warm and generous toward him again. I don’t say what I’m thinking, which is, You may not be used to sharing us, but we’re very used to sharing you. “You know Loren still loves you best,” I say, which makes him smile.

“I mean, I did teach her how to hock a loogie,” Jonah says. “You don’t forget the person who teaches you something like that.” He takes a long sip of his milkshake. “Hey, they’re doing a Lord of the Rings marathon at the Bess this weekend. Wanna go?”

“That’s, like, nine hours!”

“Yeah, nine hours of awesome.”

“True,” I agree. “I wanna go; I just have to check with TJ first. He said something about going to a movie this weekend, and—”

Jonah cuts me off before I can finish. “It’s fine. I can just go with Mike. Or maybe I’ll take Loren. It’s about time I introduced her to the genius that is Tolkien.”

I’m quiet. Loren is four. Are we really interchangeable in his mind?

****

. . . . .

****

The next night, TJ and I study at Starbucks for a few hours- well, I study, and he keeps getting up and talking to people from school. On the way home he asks, “Did you sign up for the ski trip?”

“No. I’m a terrible skier.” Only cool people like TJ and his friends go on the ski trip. I could try to twist Buffy’s arm into going, but she’d probably laugh in my face. She’s not going on any school trip, and besides, we’ve barely spoken since September.

“You don’t have to ski. You can snowboard. That’s what I’m doing.”

I give him a look. “Can you picture me snowboarding?”

“I’ll teach you. Come on, it’ll be fun.” TJ grabs my hand and says, “Please please please, Cyrus? Come on, be a sport. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

He catches me by surprise with this. The ski trip isn’t until winter break. So he wants to keep this, us, up until then. For some reason I feel relieved.

“If you don’t want to snowboard,” he continues, “the lodge has a big stone fireplace and big comfy chairs. You can sit and read for hours. And they sell the best hot chocolate. I’ll buy you one.” He squeezes my hand.

My heart does a little zing, and I say, “All right, I’ll go. But the hot chocolate had better be as good as you say.”

“I’ll buy you as many as you want.” 

“Then you better bring a lot of singles,” I say, and TJ snorts. “What?”

“Nothing.”

When we get to my house, I climb out and he drives away before it occurs to me I left my bag on the floor of his car, and my dad and Sandy aren’t home.

I fumble around blindly under the deck, feeling around in the dark for the spare keys we keep hidden under the wheelbarrow. Then I remember that the spare keys are in the junk drawer, in the house, because I forgot to put them back the last time I got locked out. I have no keys, no phone, no way of getting into the house.

Jonah! Jonah has a spare key, because he’s watered my dad’s plants for him a few times when we went away on vacation. Now I’d just have to wait, and hope he came by.

Luck is on my side, because he drives by a moment later, stopping once he sees me shivering on the sidewalk.

Jonah rolls down his window and leans his head out. “Hey. Did Kippen leave already?”

Surprised, I say, “Yeah. I left my bag in his car. Do you have your spare key?”

Jonah sighs, like I’m asking for something huge. “Hold on.” Then he climbs out of the car. He’s wearing a hoodie and sweatpants. It’s Andi’s favorite hoodie. When they first got together, she used to wear it all the time, like it was a letterman’s jacket or something.

I hold my hand out for the key and Jonah drops them in my hand. “Thanks, Jonah.”

I turn to leave, but he says, “Wait. I’m worried about you.”

“What? Why?”

He sighs heavily and adjusts his glasses. He only wears his glasses at night. “This thing with Kippen…” ****  
** **

“Not that again. Jonah-”

“He’s a player. He’s not good enough for you. You’re... innocent. You’re not like other guys. He’s a typical guy. You can’t trust him.”

“I think I know him a lot better than you do.”

“I’m just looking out for you.” Jonah clears his throat. “You’re like my little brother.”

I want to hit him for saying that. “No I’m not,” I say.

An uneasy look crosses over Jonah’s face. I know what he’s thinking, because we’re both thinking it.

Then, headlights are beaming down our street. It’s TJ’s car. He’s come back. I hand Jonah his set of keys and run over to my driveway. Over my shoulder I call out, “Thanks anyway, Jonah!”

I come around the front to the driver’s side. TJ’s window is down. “You forgot your bag,” he says, glancing over toward Jonah’s car.

“I know,” I say breathlessly. “Thanks for coming back.”

“Is he out there?”

“I don’t know. He was a minute ago.”

“Then just in case,” TJ says, and he leans his head out and kisses me on the lips, open-mouthed and sure.

I’m stunned.

When he pulls away, TJ's smiling. “Night, Cyrus.”

He drives off into the night and I’m still standing there with my fingers to my lips. TJ Kippen just kissed me. He kissed me, and I liked it. I’m pretty sure I liked it. I’m pretty sure I like him.

****

. . . . .

 

The next morning I’m at my locker, putting my books away, when I see TJ walking down the hallway. My heart thumps in my chest so loud I can hear it echo in my ears. He hasn’t seen me yet. I duck my head into my locker and start arranging my books into a pile.

From behind the locker door he says, “Hey.”

“Hey,” I say back.

“I just want to set your mind at ease, Goodman. I’m not going to kiss you again, so don’t worry about it.”

Oh.

So that’s that. It doesn’t matter if I like him or not, because he doesn’t like me back. It’s kind of silly to feel so disappointed about something you only just realized you wanted, isn’t it?

_Don’t let him see that you’re disappointed._

I face him. “I wasn’t worrying about it.”

“Yes you were. Look at you: your face is all pinched together like a clam.” TJ laughs, and I try to unpinch my face, to look serene. “It’s not going to happen again. It was all for Jonah Beck’s benefit.”

“Good.”

“Good,” he says, and he takes my hand, and he closes my locker door, and he walks me to class like a real boyfriend, like we’re really in love.

How was I supposed to know what’s real and what’s not? It feels like I’m the only one who doesn’t know the difference.

****

. . . . .

****

The Christmas Cookie Bonanza starts December first. Even though we don’t celebrate Christmas, and the cookies don’t really have anything to with the holiday anyway, my dad, Loren, and I like to spend our holiday season baking. We drag out all of Mommy’s old cookbooks and cooking magazines and we spread them out on the living room floor and turn on the _Charlie Brown Christmas_ album, or some Hanukkah album that my dad has from the eighties. Jewish hair bands, who knew?

Loren keeps a “list” of which cookies we’re definitely doing and which ones we’re maybe doing. She puts princess stickers on the ones that are definites, and Dora stickers on the ones we’re maybe doing. There are a few perennials. My dad loves pecan crescents, so those are a must. Sugar cookies, because those are Buffy’s favorite. Snickerdoodles for Loren, molasses cookies for Andi, cowgirl cookies for me. White-chocolate cranberry are Jonah’s favorite. I think this year, though, we should mix things up and do different cookies. Not entirely, but at least a few new ones.

TJ’s here; he stopped by after school to work on math, and now it’s hours later and he’s still here. He and Loren and I are in the living room going through the cookbooks. My dad’s in the kitchen listening to NPR and making tomorrow’s lunches.

“Please no more turkey sandwiches,” I call out.

TJ nudges my sock and mouths _spoiled_ , and he points at me, shaking his finger. “Whatever. Your mom makes your lunches every day, so shut it,” I whisper.

My dad calls back, “Hey, I’m sick of leftovers too, but what are we going to do? Throw it away?”

“Pretty much exactly,” I say. My dad has a thing about wasting food. I wonder if I snuck down to the kitchen tonight and threw it out, if he’d notice. He probably would.

“If I had a dog,” Loren pipes up loudly, “there wouldn’t be any more leftovers.” She grins toothily at me.

“What kind of dog do you want?” TJ asks her.

“Don’t get her hopes up,” I tell him, but he waves me off.

Immediately Loren says, “I don’t know. One I can train to be a seeing eye dog.”

“But you’re not blind,” TJ says.

“But I could be one day.”

Grinning, TJ shakes his head. He nudges me again and in an admiring voice he says, “Can’t argue with the kid.”

“It’s pretty much futile,” I agree. I hold up a magazine to show Loren. “What do you think? Creamsicle cookies?” Loren sticks a Dora sticker on the page.

“Hey, what about these?” TJ pushes a cookbook in my lap. It’s opened up to a fruitcake cookie recipe.

I gag. “Are you kidding? You’re kidding, right? Fruitcake cookies? That’s disgusting.”

“When done right, fruitcake can be really good,” TJ defends. “My great-aunt Trish used to make fruitcake, and she’d put ice cream on top and it was awesome.”

“If you put ice cream on anything, it’s good,” Loren says.

“Can’t argue with the kid,” I say, and TJ and I exchange smiles over Loren’s head.

“Point taken, but this isn’t your average fruitcake. It’s not, like, a wet loaf of neon jujubes. It’s got pecans and dried cherries and blueberries and good stuff. I think she called it Christmas Memory fruitcake.”

“I love that story!” I exclaim. “That’s my favorite. It’s so good but so sad.”

TJ looks puzzled, so I explain. “ ‘A Christmas Memory’ is a short story by Truman Capote. It’s about a boy named Buddy and his older lady cousin who took care of him when he was little. They’d save up all year to buy ingredients for fruitcake and then they’d send them as presents to friends, but also to, like, the president.”

“Why is it so sad?” Loren wants to know.

“Because they’re best friends and they love each other more than anybody, but they get separated in the end, because the family thinks she doesn’t take good enough care of him. And maybe she doesn’t, but maybe it doesn’t matter, because she was still his soul mate. In the end she dies, and Buddy doesn’t even get to say good-bye to her. And, it’s a true story.”

“That’s depressing,” TJ says. “Forget the fruitcake cookies.”

I’m thumbing through an old _Good Housekeeping_ magazine when the doorbell rings. Loren scrambles up and runs for the door. “Check who it is before you open it,” I call after her. She’s always forgetting to check first.

“Jonah!” I hear her squeal.

TJ’s head jerks up.

“He’s here to see Loren,” I tell him.

“Yeah, right.”

Jonah walks into the living room with Loren hanging around his neck like a monkey. “Hey,” he says, eyes flickering in TJ’s direction.

“What’s up, man,” TJ says, friendly as can be. “Have a seat.”

I give him a strange look. Just a second ago he was grousing, and now he’s happy as a clam. I don’t get boys.

Jonah holds up a plastic bag. “I brought back your casserole dish.”

“Is that Jonah?” my dad calls from the kitchen. “Jonah, do you want a snack? Turkey sandwich?”

I’m positive he’s going to say no, because I’m sure he’s had as many leftover turkey sandwiches over at his house as we’ve been eating over here, but then he goes, “Sure!” Jonah disentangles himself from Loren and plops down on the couch. To me he says, “Christmas Cookie Bonanza?”

“Christmas Cookie Bonanza,” I confirm.

“You’re making my favorite, right?” Jonah gives me puppy-dog eyes, which always makes me laugh, because it’s so un-Jonah.

“You’re such a dork,” I say, shaking my head.

“What’s your favorite?” TJ asks him. “Because I think the list is pretty set.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s already on the list,” Jonah says.

I look from Jonah to TJ. I can’t tell if they’re kidding or not.

TJ reaches out and tickles Loren’s feet. “Read us the list, Princess Loren.”

Loren giggles and rolls over to her stack of magazines. Then she shuffles over to me, holding out the magazines for me to read off the dog eared pages., “M&M cookies are a yes, cappuccino cookies are a maybe, Creamsicle cookies are a maybe, fruitcake cookies are a _no way_ —”

“Wait a minute, I’m a part of this council too,” TJ objects, “and you guys just turned down my fruitcake cookies without a second thought.”

“You said to forget the fruitcake cookies, like, five seconds ago!” I say.

“Well, now I want them back under consideration,” he says.

“I’m sorry, but you don’t have the votes,” I tell him. “Loren and I both vote no, so that’s two against one.”

My dad pops his head into the living room. “Put me down as a yes vote for the fruitcake cookies.” His head disappears back into the kitchen.

“Thank you, Dr. Goodman,” TJ crows. He drags me closer to him. “See, I knew your dad was on my side.”

I laugh. “You’re such a suck-up!”

And then I look over at Jonah, and he is staring at us with a funny, left-out look on his face. It makes me feel bad, that look. I scoot away from TJ and start flipping through my books again. I tell him, “The list is still a work in progress. The cookie council will strongly consider your white-chocolate cranberry cookies.”

“Greatly appreciated,” Jonah says. “Christmas isn’t Christmas without your white-chocolate cranberry cookies.”

Loren pipes up, “Hey, Jonah, you’re a suck-up too.” Jonah grabs her and tickles her until she’s laughing so hard she has tears in her eyes.

Later, after Jonah and Loren are long departed, TJ and I are sitting on the loveseat, watching some garbage Lifetime movie.

Out of nowhere he says, “Jonah is into you.”

I freeze. “No, he isn’t. He loves Andi. He always has and he always will.”

TJ waves this off. “Just you wait. As soon as you and I are done, he’s gonna pull some cheesy-ass move and, like, profess his love for you with a boombox. I’m telling you, I know how guys think.”

I yank away the pillow he’s got cushioning his back and put it on the recliner. “It’s winter break soon. I bet _you_ a million dollars he tries to get with Andi again as some kind of Christmas miracle baloney.”

TJ holds his hand out for me to shake on it, and when I take it, he pulls me onto the couch next to him. Our legs touch. He has a mischievous glint in his eye, and I think maybe he’s going to kiss me, and I’m scared, but I’m excited, too. But then I hear my dad’s footsteps coming down the stairs, and the moment’s over.

****

. . . . .

****

Jonah is at my house again, and we’re curled up on opposite sides of my living room, him in an armchair working on a paper, and me on the couch texting TJ.

“You act different around Kippen. Did you know that?” He says suddenly.

I look up from my phone. “No I don’t.”

“You don’t act like you. You act like... like how all girls act around him. That’s not you, Cyrus.”

Annoyed, I say, “I act the same as I always do. What would you know about it, Jonah? You’ve barely ever even been around us.”

He shakes his head and says, “You know what I don’t get?”

“What?”

Jonah stares at me, his cheeks a dull red. “Why you never said anything. If all that time you felt like that about me, why didn’t you say anything?”

My whole body goes stiff. I wasn’t expecting that. I’m not prepared. I swallow hard and say, “You were with Andi.”

“I wasn’t always with Andi. The stuff you wrote- you liked me before I ever liked her. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

I let out a breath. “What does that even matter now?”

“It matters. You should have told me. You should have at least given me a chance.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference, Jonah!”

“And I’m telling you it would have!” He steps toward me.

Jerkily I rise to my feet, and step towards him. He does the same. Why is he bringing this up now, just when things are back to normal again? “You’re so full of it. You’ve never thought of me that way, not ever, so don’t go trying to reinvent history now when I have somebody.”

“Don’t tell me what I think,” he snaps. “You don’t know my every thought, Cyrus.”

“Yes I do. I know you better than anyone. You know why? You’re predictable. Everything you do. It’s so predictable. The only reason you’re even saying this now is because you’re jealous. And it’s not even because of me. You don’t care about who I’m with. You’re just jealous that TJ took your spot.”

His face darkens. He glares at me and I glare back. “Fine!” he yells. “I’m jealous! Are you happy now?”

And then he jerks his head toward mine, and he kisses me. On the lips. His eyes are closed, mine are wide open. And then mine close too, and for a second, just for a second, I kiss him back. Then I break away. I push him off.

Triumphantly he says, “Did you predict that, Cyrus?”

My mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. I turn, run up the stairs as fast as I can. I run all the way to my room and lock my door behind me. Jonah just kissed me. In my living room.  I have a fake boyfriend I just cheated on.

****

. . . . .

****

I wasn’t planning on telling TJ a thing about Jonah kissing me. I really wasn’t. But then, as Walker and I are walking together, I see him and Buffy walking down the hallway, and I hear my name as we pass them. Walker gives me a meaningful look, which I pretend not to see.

In chemistry class I write TJ a note.

 

_**You were right about Jonah**. _

****

I tap him on the back and slip the note in his hand. When he reads it, he sits up straight and immediately scrawls something back.

****

_**Be more specific.** _

****

_**He kissed me.** _

****

When TJ stiffens, I am ashamed to say that I feel a little bit vindicated. I wait for him to write back, but he doesn’t. As soon as the bell rings, he turns around and says, “What the hell? How did that even happen?”

“He came over because his parents were fighting.”

TJ looks really irritated, and I’m starting to regret mentioning it. “What the hell is he thinking, kissing my boyfriend? It’s fucking ridiculous. I’m gonna say something to him.”

“Wait, what? No!”

“I have to, Cyrus. He can’t just get away with it.”

I stand up and start packing up my bag. “You’d better not say anything to him, TJ. I mean it.”

TJ watches me silently. And then he asks, “Did you kiss him back?”

“What does it matter?”

He looks taken aback. “Are you mad at me for something?”

“No,” I say. “But I will be if you say anything to Jonah.”

“Fine,” he says.

“Fine,” I say back.

****

. . . . .

****

Jonah is waiting on my porch after school, hands tucked into the pockets of his winter coat, his knees tucked into his chest. I avoided him all day at school, and was planning on doing so for the rest of my life, yet here he is, at my house. And he’s waiting for me.

“Hey,” He stands, and I cautiously approach him, not even looking at his face. I walk past him, and sit on the patio loveseat, leaving enough room for him to sit beside me. He does. “Can I talk to you?”

“What could you possibly have to say to me, Jonah?”

“We need to figure out what we’re going to tell Andi.” I stare at him in disbelief. “Since it was my fault, I think I should tell her.”

I scoff, and turn away, staring straight ahead, right at Mrs. Galperin’s door. “We’re not telling Andi anything. There’s nothing to tell her.”

“I don’t want to keep it a secret from her.”

“Well, you should have thought of that!” I tell him, temper flaring. “And, if anyone is telling her, it’s me. I’ve been her best friend since second grade, and all you ever were was her wishy washy boyfriend. But, you’re not even that anymore, so.”

Jonah looks hurt. “I was never just her boyfriend. We were all friends, Cyrus, and this is weird for me, too. It’s just, ever since I got that letter… nah, forget it.”

I swallow thickly. “Just say it. Ever since you got that letter, things have been messed up between us.”

“They have. And it’s not fair. You get to say everything you wanted to say, and then run off into the sunset with TJ Kippen. Meanwhile, I have to have to figure all of this out by myself. All the feelings that I thought I’d buried in middle school, when Andi asked me out, are all of the sudden boiling over again, and I can’t do anything about it. You blindside me with a love confession, and then you shut me out. You shut everyone out.”

“Jonah…”

“No,” He cuts me off, and looks at me with tears in his eyes. “Let me just say what I need to say.”

I nod.

“I hate that you’re with Kippen. He’s not good enough for you. Nobody is ever going to be good enough for you. Not even me.” He ducks his head. “Do you remember that time that I gave you MVP in middle school?” I nod again. “I wanted to kiss you then. But I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because… because I didn’t know why I wanted to. I thought I was straight, but here I am, thinking about kissing my best friend, who’s a boy. And then last night, when we kissed…”

I let out a sigh. “I’m sorry you got that letter, Jonah. You were never supposed to see it.”

“Maybe it was fate. Maybe this was supposed to happen, because I needed to realize my feelings for you. Maybe it was always supposed to be you and me.”

I say the first thing that comes to mind. “No, it wasn’t.” And I realize it’s true.

This is the moment I realize I don’t love him, that I haven’t for a while. That maybe I never did. Because he’s right there for the taking: I could kiss him again; I could make him mine. But I don’t want him. I want someone else. It feels strange to have spent so much time wishing for something, for someone, and then one day, suddenly, to just stop.

“Cyrus, why can’t you give me a chance?”

“Because,” I smile weakly. “I’m in love with TJ.”

 

. . . . .

 

**_Cyrus-_ **

**_You are like the first drops of the wet rain_  
_You are like the first rays of the warm sun_  
I call myself a madman  
For I have lost myself within you  
Somewhere…**

**_Love,  
TJ _ ** ****  
** **

 

. . . . .

****

At six thirty in the morning the day of the ski trip, my dad drops me off at school. It’s not even light out yet. It seems like every day the sun takes longer and longer to come up. Before I hop out of the car, my dad pulls a hat out of his coat pocket. It’s light blue yarn with a pom-pom on top. He fits it on my head so it covers my ears. “I found this in the hall closet. I think it was one of your mom’s. She was such a great skier.”

“I know. I remember.”

“Promise me you’ll go out on the slopes at least once.”

“I promise.”

“I’m so glad you’re doing this. It’s good for you to try new things.”

I smile weakly. If he only knew what went down at the ski trip, he wouldn’t be so glad then. Then I spot TJ and his friends messing around outside by the charter bus. “Thanks for the ride, Dad. See you tomorrow night.” I give him a hug and grab my duffel bag. Then, I make my way over to TJ.

He grins when he sees me, extending his arm, so I can curl into his side. He takes my duffel bag from me, and puts it next to his. “I’ll put this on the bus.”

“It’s freezing,” I say, my teeth chattering.

TJ pulls me in front of him and puts his arms around me. “I’ll keep you warm.” I look up at him like _so cheesy_ , but his attention is somewhere else. He snuggles against my neck, and I squirm away from him. “What’s with you?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I say.

We file onto the bus and TJ slides into a seat in the middle and I shuffle forward. “Hey,” he says, surprised. “You’re not going to sit with me?”

“I actually want to sit with Buffy.” I try to keep walking down the aisle, but TJ grabs my arm.

“Cyrus! Are you kidding me? You have to sit with me.” He looks around to see if anybody’s listening. “You’re my boyfriend.”

I shake him off. “We’re breaking up soon, aren’t we? We might as well make it look more realistic.”

When I slide into the seat next to her, Buffy looks bewildered.

“Hey.” I greet, smiling at her warmly.

“Hi.”

“Do you mind if I sit here?” She furrows her brow at me, and I hold out my hand to her. “I really want my best friend back.”

Then, she grins, putting her hand in mine, and pulling me into a hug. “Of course you can sit here.”

When the bus starts moving, she finally pulls away, and looks at me conspiratorially. “So, what’s the drama with Kippen? I want to know everything.”

I give her a pained look, and rest my head on her shoulder. “It’s a long story.”

Her head falls on mine. “Lucky for you, we’ve got time.”

****

. . . . .

****

The lodge is exactly the way TJ described- there’s a big fireplace and bearskin rugs and lots of little nooks. It’s snowing outside, tiny little whisper flakes. On the bus, I’d told Buffy everything- completely spilled my guts to her. She was out on the slopes now, but promised to give me some advice when she came back. So, now, it was just a waiting game.

I spend three hours in my hotel room, reading Wuthering Heights for AP Literature. When Buffy comes back, I’m on the last chapter, and I’m crying, all curled up in a ball. She shakes her head at me, and points at the door. “Get your ass down there right now, Goodman, or I swear to God, I will punch you in the knee.”

So, I stumble down the stairs, and run right into TJ and his basketball buddies.

“Hey, Cy.” One of them greets me. “Where’ve you been? We looked for you out there, but couldn’t find you.”

I smile halfheartedly. “I had some reading to do for English. I just wanted to get it over with.” I look over at TJ, who won’t meet my gaze. “Hey, Teej,”

TJ finally looks me in the eyes. “Hi.” His voice is cold and indifferent and so un-TJ-like, the smile fades from my face.

The team exchange looks, and quickly excuse themselves, not wanting to get in the middle of our fight. TJ and I are left standing in the lobby, neither of us saying anything. I finally ask, “Are you mad at me or something?”

“Why would I be mad?”

And then it’s back to quiet again.

I say, “You know, you’re the one who talked me into coming on this trip. The least you could do is talk to me.”

“The least you could do was sit next to me on the bus!” he bursts out.

My mouth hangs open. “Are you really that mad that I didn’t sit next to you on the bus?”

TJ lets out an impatient breath of air. “Cyrus, when you’re dating someone, there are just... certain things you do, okay? Like sit next to each other on a school trip. That’s pretty much expected.”

“I just don’t see what the big deal is,” I say. How can he be this mad over such a tiny thing?

“Forget it.” He turns like he’s going to leave, and I grab his sweatshirt sleeve. I don’t want to be in a fight with him; I just want it to be fun and light the way it always is with us. I want him to at least still be my friend. Especially now that we’re at the end.

I say, “Come on, don’t be mad. I didn’t realize it was that big of a deal. I swear I’ll sit next to you on the way home, okay?”

He purses his lips. “But do you get why I was pissed?”

I nod back. “Mm-hmm.”

“All right then, you should know that you missed out on cream cheese frosted donuts.”

My mouth falls open. “How’d you get those? I thought the shop didn’t open that early!”

“I went out and got them last night specifically for the bus ride,” TJ says. “For you and me.”

Aw. I’m touched. “Well, are there any left?”

“Nope. I ate them all.”

He looks so smug that I reach out and swat at his hoodie strings. “You creep,” I say, but I mean it affectionately.

TJ grabs my hand mid-swat and says, “Wanna hear something funny?”

“What?”

“I think I started liking you.”

I go completely still. Then I pull my hand away from his, shove my hands into my jacket pockets, and curl them into fists. My nails dig into my palms, and it hurts, but it’s a good kind of hurt. It’s grounding me. My heart is thudding in my chest and it’s hard to think all of a sudden. “Stop teasing.”

“I’m not teasing. Why do you think I kissed you that day at my birthday party back in eighth grade? It’s why I went along with this thing in the first place. There was never any freshman. I just thought you were cute. I always have.”

My face feels hot. “In a quirky way.”

TJ grins his perfect grin. “So? I guess I must like quirky, then.”

Then he leans his head closer to mine, and I blurt out, “Wait!”

TJ frowns.

“What?”

“You told me you don’t like boys. In the hall that day, you said you don’t swing that way. The only reason we’re doing this is because I’m gay and I kissed you in the middle of the hallway.”

“Look, Cyrus. I’ve known that I’m not straight for a really long time. I hated myself for it for years. I never told anybody, and I dated girls, and I did my best to pretend that being gay isn’t who I am.” He shrugs. “But now... I like you.”

People are walking in and out of the lodge; a guy from school walks by and claps TJ on the shoulder. “What up,” He says. When he’s gone, TJ says to me, “So what do you say?” He’s looking at me expectantly. He’s expecting me to say yes.

I want to say yes. I want to nod, and kiss him, and jump into his arms, and let him hold me. But how can I? TJ deserves somebody so much better than me. He deserves to be with someone who has this whole love thing figured out. He deserves to be with somebody who knows what they’re doing. Of course, I love him, but I don’t know if it’s enough this time.

“Cyrus?”

“I don’t know if I can.” I say finally, my voice cracking. “TJ, love is so complicated, and-”

Frustrated, he backs away from me and runs his hands through his hair. “God, what makes you such an expert on this? You’ve liked five guys in your life. One is totally straight, one lives in Indiana or Montana or some place, the other is into your best friend, one was dating the same friend. And then there’s me. Hmm, what do we all have in common? What’s the common denominator?”

I feel all the blood rush to my face. “That’s not fair.”

TJ leans in close and says, “You only like guys you don’t have a shot with, because you’re scared. What are you so scared of?”

I back away from him, right into the wall. “I’m not scared of anything.”

“The hell you’re not. You’d rather make up a fantasy version of somebody in your head than be with a real person.”

I glare at him. “You’re just mad because I didn’t die of happiness because the great TJ Kippen said he liked me. Your ego really is that enormous.”

His eyes flash. “Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t show up on your doorstep with flowers and profess my undying love for you, Cyrus, but guess what, that’s not real life. You need to grow up.”

That’s it. I don’t have to listen to this. I turn on my heel and walk away. Over my shoulder I say, “Enjoy the hot tub.”

“I always do,” he calls back.

I’m shaking. Is it true? Could he be right?

Back at the room, I put on gym shorts and a ratty t-shirt, and crawl into bed beside Buffy. She’s already asleep, but her weight on the bed beside me is enough of a comfort right now.

How dare he say I need to grow up? What does he know about anything? As if he’s so mature!

But... is he right about me? Do I only like the boys I can never have? I’ve always known TJ was out of my reach. I’ve always known he didn’t belong to me. But tonight he said he liked me. The thing I’ve been hoping for, he said it. So why didn’t I just tell him I liked him back when I had the chance? Because I do. I like him back. Of course I do. Who wouldn’t fall for TJ, handsomest boy of all the Handsome Boys. Now that I really know him, I know he’s so much more than that.

I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I want to be brave. I want ... life to start happening. I want to fall in love and I want a boy to fall in love with me back. Before I can talk myself out of it, I put on my puffy coat, slip my keycard in my pocket, and head off to the hot tub.

****

. . . . .

****

The hot tub is behind the main lodge, tucked in the woods on a wooden platform. On the way there, I run into kids with wet hair who are on their way back to their rooms before curfew. Curfew is at eleven, and it’s already ten forty-five. There’s not much time left. I hope TJ’s still out there. I don’t want to lose my nerve. So I quicken my pace and that’s when I spot him, alone in the hot tub, his head tipped back with his eyes closed.

“Hi,” I say, and my voice echoes into the woods.

His eyes fly open. “Cyrus? What are you doing out here?”

“I came to see you,” I say, and my breath comes out in white puffs. My hands are shaking, and not because it’s cold. I’m nervous.

Shivering, I unzip my puffy coat and set it on the bench. Steam is rising out of the water. I dip my feet in and sit down on the ledge of the hot tub. It’s hotter than a bath, but it feels nice. TJ’s still watching me warily. My heart is racing out of control and it’s difficult to look him in the eyes. I’ve never been so scared in my life. “That thing you brought up earlier... you caught me off guard, so I didn’t know what to say. But, I like you too.” It comes out so fumbly and uncertain, and I wish I could start over and say it smoothly and confidently. I try again, louder. “I like you so much, TJ.”

He blinks at me, and I think that I stop breathing. Did I screw things up that badly that now he doesn’t know? It can’t be over, not when I finally found my courage. I can’t let it be. My heart is pounding like a million trillion beats a minute as I scoot closer to him. I bend my head down and press my lips against his, and I feel his jolt of surprise. And then he’s kissing me back, open-mouthed, soft-lipped kissing-me-back, and at first I’m nervous, but then he puts his hand on the back of my head, and he strokes my hair in a reassuring way, and I’m not so nervous anymore. It’s a good thing I’m sitting down on this ledge, because I am weak in the knees.

He pulls me into the water so I’m sitting in the hot tub too, and my pajamas are soaked now but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. I never knew kissing could be this good.

My arms are at my sides, and TJ’s holding my face in his hands, kissing me. “Are you okay?” he whispers. His voice is different: it’s ragged and urgent and vulnerable somehow. He doesn’t sound like the TJ I know; he is not smooth or bored or amused. The way he’s looking at me right now, I know he would do anything I asked, and that’s a strange and powerful feeling.

I wind my arms around his neck. I like the smell of chlorine on his skin. He smells like pool, and summer, and vacations. It’s not like in the movies. It’s better, because it’s real.

“Touch my hair again,” I tell him, and the corners of his mouth turn up.

I lean into him and kiss him. He starts to run his fingers through my hair, and it feels so nice I can’t think straight. I move my hands down his back and along his spine, and he shivers and pulls me closer.

In between kisses he says, “It’s past curfew. We should go back inside.”

“I don’t want to,” I say. All I want is to stay and be here, with him, in this moment.

“Me either, but I don’t want you to get in trouble,” TJ says. He looks worried, which is so sweet.

Softly, I touch his cheek with the back of my hand. It’s smooth. I could look at his face for hours, it’s so beautiful.

Then I stand up, and immediately I’m shivering. I start wringing the water out of my shirt, and TJ jumps out of the hot tub and gets his towel, which he wraps around my shoulders. Then he gives me his hand and I step out, teeth chattering. He starts drying me off with the towel, and then he puts my coat on me, and zips me right in.

Then we run back inside the lodge. Before we go our separate ways, we kiss one last time, and it feels like I’m flying.

****

. . . . .

****

“So, I just heard something crazy.” Buffy slides in next to me at breakfast, and wraps an arm around me protectively. She has her mama bear face on, and it instantly worries me.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” She looks at me nervously. “Everyone is saying that you and TJ had sex in the hot tub last night. Is that true?”

I feel the blood drain from my face, and my stomach drop. “No.” I whisper. “Who’s telling people that?”

“My guess?” Buffy looks at me sadly. “Probably TJ, babe.”

Tears well in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I bury my head in Buffy’s shoulder, and she rubs my back comfortingly. I can hear someone’s footsteps as they walk by us, without them shouting as they go.

“Don’t worry, Cyrus! Now that you’re a slut, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of guys who’ll want to date you. For a night.” She cackles, and everyone at breakfast joins in. Buffy stands, and pulls me to my feet, ushering me out of the room, and onto the bus. We sit in the back, and she hugs me while I cry.

A few minutes later, TJ makes his way down the aisle, and kneels down beside us. Buffy practically snarls at him, and I look up at him with tear stained cheeks.

“Hey, Cy,” He says softly. “The guys told me you ran out of the lodge crying. I wanted to check and see if you were okay. If you needed me.”

“Everyone is saying we had sex in the hot tub,” I croak. “Why?”

TJ rolls his eyes. “I don’t know. They just need to mind their own business.”

I look at him blankly, and sniffle. I can’t cry right now. If I do, I won’t stop crying the whole way home, and I’ll be even more humiliated than I am right now.

“I don’t get it. Why are you mad at me?” He’s still confused.

“Let me spell this out for you, Kippen,” Buffy says sharply. “Get the hell out of here, and leave Cyrus alone.”

“Come on, Cyrus,” TJ says, touching my shoulder.

I jerk away from him and his mouth drops open. People are looking at us and whispering and snickering. TJ glances over his shoulder, his face red. Then he turns on his heel, and makes his way down the aisle, and to the front of the bus.

“Are you okay?” Buffy asks.

I can feel my eyes welling up. “No. Not really.”

****

. . . . .

****

That night, I keep checking my phone to see if TJ’s. He hasn’t, but Jonah has.

 

          **jonah freaking beck: I heard what happened. Are you okay?**

**cy guy: it isn’t true**

**jonah freaking beck: You don’t have to tell me. I didn’t believe it for a second**

****

I stay up late just in case TJ does text. I think to myself, if he calls or texts me tonight, I’ll know he’s thinking about me too and maybe I’ll forgive him. But he doesn’t text or call.

So, around three a.m. I throw away TJ’s notes. I delete the picture of him from my phone; I delete his number. I think that if I just delete him enough, it will be like none of it ever happened and my heart won’t hurt so badly.

****

. . . . .

****

I don’t leave my room for days. Buffy and Andi come over every day, and we watch shitty teen movies, and I cry on their shoulders, but it’s not until the 26th that they’re able to pull me out of my room. The annual Good Hair Crew holiday party is tonight, and all the work that Loren and I did this month making cookies is finally paying off. Buffy told me she’s been jumping around her front yard, she’s so excited to be invited, and part of the work. Buffy also said she’s been over to my house six times, asking to show me her presents.

So, here I am, socializing as best I can while being glued to Buffy’s side. I’m sipping cranberry-and-ginger-ale punch and listening to Buffy’s Aunt Deidre talk about her divorce when TJ Kippen walks in wearing a hunter-green sweater with a button-down shirt underneath, carrying a Christmas tin. I almost choke on my punch.

Loren spots him when I do. “You came!” she cries. She runs right into his arms, and he puts down the cookie tin and picks her up and throws her around. When he sets her down, she takes him by the hand and over to the buffet table, where I’m busying myself rearranging the cookie plate. I glare at Buffy, who raises her hands, and gives me an I didn’t do it face. A glance around the room to avoid TJ’s gaze clues me in to my dad’s guilty look.

“Look what TJ brought,” she says, her smile wide.

He hands me the cookie tin. “Here. Fruitcake cookies my mom made.”

“What are you doing here?” I whisper accusingly.

“Your dad invited me.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Jonah is standing up now, looking over at us with a frown on his face. “We need to talk.”

So now he wants to talk. Well, too late. “We don’t have anything to talk about.”

TJ takes me by the elbow and I try to shake him off, but he won’t let go. He steers me into the kitchen. “I want you to make up an excuse and leave,” I say. “And you can take your fruitcake cookies with you.”

“First tell me why you’re so pissed at me.”

“Because!” I burst out. “Everyone is saying how we had sex in the hot tub and I’m a slut and you don’t even care!”

“I told the guys we didn’t!”

“Did you? Did you tell them that all we did was kiss and that’s all we’ve ever done?” TJ hesitates, and I go on. “Or did you say, ‘Guys, we didn’t have sex in the hot tub,’ wink wink, nudge nudge.”

TJ glares at me. “Give me a little more credit than that, Cyrus.”

“You’re such a scumbag, Kippen.”

I spin around. There is Jonah, in the doorway, glaring at TJ.

“It’s your fault people are saying that crap about Cyrus.” Jonah shakes his head in disgust. “He’d never do that.”

“Keep your voice down,” I whisper, my eyes darting around. This is not happening right now. At a holiday party, with everyone I’ve ever known my whole entire life in the next room.

TJ’s jaw twitches. “This is a private conversation, Jonah, between me and my boyfriend. Why don’t you go play World of Warcraft or something. Or maybe there’s a Lord of the Rings marathon on TV.”

“Fuck you, Kippen,” Jonah says. I gasp. To me Jonah says, “Cyrus, this is exactly what I’ve been trying to protect you from. He’s not good enough for you. He’s only bringing you down.”

Beside me TJ stiffens. “Get over it! He doesn’t like you anymore. It’s over. Move on.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jonah says.

“Whatever, dude. He told me you tried to kiss him. You try that again, and I’m kicking your ass.”

Jonah lets out a short laugh. “Go ahead.”

Panic rises in my chest as TJ moves toward Jonah with purpose. I pull TJ’s arm back. “Stop it!”

TJ turns to me, and laughs blithely. “This isn’t about the hot tub at all, is it?”

“TJ-”

“No, this is about you and Jonah freaking Beck, isn’t it? I’m so tired of being second best! You’re still in love with this Justin Bieber wannabe!”

“Maybe if Cyrus broke up with you, it’s because he came to the life-altering conclusion, that you’re a huge dick!”

“You’re in love with Jonah?” That’s when I see her. Andi, standing a few feet behind Jonah, her hand to her mouth, Buffy at her side. The piano music has stopped, the world has stopped spinning, because Andi has heard everything.

****

“No, Andi, wait.”

“How _could_ you?” she asks, and her voice trembles. The hurt in her eyes makes me want to die. I’ve never seen that look in her eyes before. I open and close my mouth. I don’t have to say anything, because she already knows. Andi, my best friend forever, who knows me so well.

The next thing I know, she’s storming out of my kitchen, and out the front door. Tears fill my eyes, and TJ takes a step toward me.

“Cyrus-”

“God, TJ!” I snap, turning toward him as I openly sob. “You were never second best. Don’t you get it?” He gives me a pained look, and I take a step toward Buffy, who wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Please, just… go home. Both of you.”

Buffy steers me towards the bathroom once they leave, swiftly dodging anyone who tries to approach us. When the door is shut and locked, she runs water over a hand towel and wets my face with it. My mom used to do this for me when I was sick. She’d put an ice-cold washcloth over my forehead and she’d switch it out with a fresh one when it wasn’t cold anymore.

****

I wish my mom was here.

****

. . . . .

 

There is a certain kind of fight that you can only have with someone you’d take a bullet for. It’s the kind where you say things you can’t take back, because you’re so angry that it’s exploding out of you. I’m lucky enough to have more than one person like that in my life. But these kinds of fights make me feel like maybe I’m not really so lucky.

  
Buffy drives me to Andi’s house on New Years’ Eve, and drops me off. She wants the two of us to talk alone, about everything that happened at the holiday party. I don’t know if she warned Andi, but she doesn’t seem surprised to see me, and she lets me in her house without further comment.

  
Once we’re seated in the couch, I look over at her nervously. “So.”

  
“Cut the bullshit, Cyrus,” Her tone is blunt, and her gaze is piercing my heart like shards of glass. She’s furious at me, and I don’t know how to fix this. Coldly, as if she’s speaking to a stranger, she continues. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

  
“No,” I find myself saying. Now, I realize, is the time to say it all. Everything I’ve wanted to say since the beginning- since we met Jonah Beck. “You don’t know me, Andi. Especially if you think that I’d ever do something like go after your ex-boyfriend, or sleep with TJ in a public hot tub, because I know you don’t believe that I didn’t do it.” Andi rolls her eyes, and I get mad. “Just because you hooked up with Jonah Beck under the bleachers at a football game last year, which, yeah, Buffy and I know about, doesn’t mean I’m having sex with TJ Kippen.”

  
“Lower your voice,” She whispers fiercely. “My mom is home.”

  
I roll my eyes, cross my arms, and we glare at each other for a moment. She breaks our gaze to circle the couch, then sits back down. She scoots toward me and I back away from her. There’s a dangerous light in her eyes. She’s the righteous one now. I can feel myself start to shrink, to cower.

  
“How did you know Jonah and I had sex? Did he tell you? When you guys were together behind my back?”

  
“We were never together behind your back, Andi! It wasn’t like that.”

  
“Then what was it like?” She demands.

  
A sob escapes my throat. “I liked him first! Since fifth grade, Andi! But when he started dating Amber, I gave up. And then, just when I thought I had a chance again, you guys said you were dating, so I just… swallowed it. And I wrote him a goodbye letter.”

  
“A… a goodbye letter?”

  
“We only kissed once, and it was after you broke up, and it was a huge mistake.”

  
“How do I know if I can believe you?” She asks quietly. When she looks up at me, I can see that she’s crying too. I reach over and grab her hand.

  
“Because we’re Andi and Cyrus.” I say definitively. “And I’ll always tell you the truth.”

  
Andi smiles sadly, then sags into me. I hold her, and rub her back, and she just cries, apologizing to me, and finally mourning Jonah.

  
An hour or so later, the two of us are sitting on her couch, and Buffy is on the floor. The three of us are watching another rom com, and eating popcorn, and catching up. It felt good to be with them again like this, like nothing ever changed. But something still felt wrong.

  
“Why are you still sad?” Andi asks, looking up at me through her eyelashes. I shrug half-heartedly, and stick a Redvine in my mouth.

  
“I don’t know.”

  
“How do you not know?” Buffy tosses a few pieces of popcorn into Andi’s dog’s mouth, and looks at me expectantly.

  
“I don’t know. Sometimes, don’t you just feel sad, and you can’t really explain it?”

  
Andi and Buffy exchange a knowing glance. “TJ or Jonah?”

  
I sigh. “TJ. I miss TJ.”

  
“So call him.” Andi suggests, handing me my phone. I stare down at it, then shake my head and stuff it in my pocket.

  
“I can’t.”

  
“Why not?”

  
I don’t know how to tell her. She doesn’t know that TJ and I were never real. It’s all so embarrassing, and I didn’t think I’d ever have to tell her. But, she’s waiting, her brow furrowed, and Buffy is giving me an encouraging look, and I know I have to tell her the truth. “Andi, it was all fake. The whole thing. TJ and I were never really together.”

  
“What do you mean it was fake?”

  
Sighing, I explain the whole story, Buffy interrupting occasionally to add context to my timeline. When I’m done, Andi is looking at me curiously. She stands, and backs toward her stairs.

  
“I’ll be right back.” She tells us, then bolts to her room, we hear the door creak open, things shuffle around, then Andi’s feet on the stairs again. She approaches me with a wrapped box, and sits on the couch, beaming.

  
“What is this?” I take the box from her cautiously, and she sits down at my side again.

  
“Your holiday present. I didn’t get a chance to give it to you at the party.”

  
I give her a confused look, but tug at the ribbon on the box. Once the wrapping paper is off, I can see it’s a scrapbook. It’s bright red, and covered in hearts, and it’s got a picture of me and TJ on the front cover.

  
“Where did you even get this picture?” I ask her, my gaze still fixed on it. It’s the two of us at a party, our chests pressed together. It’s clear that we’re dancing, and I’m laughing up at him, while he looks fondly down at me. I run my fingers over his face.

  
“Emily Nussbaum put it up on her Instagram.” Andi smiles, and nudges me. “Open it up.”

  
I open it up, and there are notes. Notes and notes and notes. From TJ. All the notes I threw away.

  
“I found them when I was emptying your trash after the ski trip.” She tells me. Hastily she adds, “I didn’t read them. Just the date on the top. And then I put them in order.”

  
“Andi…”

  
“Just read them, Cyrus.”

  
So I do.

  
A lot of the notes just say things like _**“Meet you at your locker after school”**_ and _**“Can I borrow your chemistry notes from yesterday?”**_ I find the one from Halloween, and it makes me smile. Another one says, _**“Thanks for coming to the estate sale with me this weekend. You made the day fun. I owe you one.”**_

 _ **“If you make Jonah’s dumb white-chocolate cranberry cookies and not my fruitcake ones, it’s over.”**_ I laugh out loud.

And then, the one I read over and over: _**“You look pretty today. I like you in blue.”**_

I’ve never gotten a love letter before. But reading these notes like this, one after the other, it feels like I have. It’s like there’s only ever been TJ. Like everyone else that came before him, they were all to prepare me for this. I think I see the difference now, between loving someone from afar and loving someone up close. When you see them up close, you see the real them, but they also get to see the real you. And TJ does. He sees me, and I see him.

Love is scary. It changes, it can go away. It can die. But that’s part of the risk. And I don’t want to be scared anymore.

I look up, and blink away my tears. “Who’s got a pen?”

****

. . . . .

****

_**Dear TJ,** _

__

**I miss you. It’s only been five days but I miss you like it’s been five years. Maybe because I don’t know if this is just it, if you and I will ever talk again. I mean I’m sure we’ll say hi in chem class, or in the hallways, but will it ever be like it was? That’s what makes me sad. I felt like I could say anything to you. I think you felt the same way. I hope you did.**

_**So I’m just going to say anything to you right now, while I’m still feeling brave. What happened between us in the hot tub scared me. I know it was just a day in the life for you, but for me it meant a lot more, and that’s what scared me. Not just what people were saying about it, and me, but that it happened at all. How easy it was, how much I liked it. I got scared and I took it out on you and for that I’m truly sorry.** _

**And at the holiday party, I’m sorry I didn’t defend you to Jonah. I should have. I know I owed you that much. I owed you that much and more. I still can’t believe you came, and that you brought those  fruitcake cookies. You looked cute in your sweater, by the way. I’m not saying that to butter you up. I mean it.**

**Sometimes I like you so much I can’t stand it. It fills up inside me, all the way to the brim, and I feel like I could overflow. I like you so much I don’t know what to do with it. My heart beats so fast when I know I’m going to see you again. And then, when you look at me the way you do, I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.**

**Those things Jonah said about you, they weren’t true. You haven’t brought me down. Just the opposite. You’ve brought me out. You gave me my first love story, TJ. Please don’t let it be over yet.**

_**Always and Forever,  
Cyrus** _

****

_**P.S. I still love you.** _

****

. . . . .

****

As soon as I’m done writing, I ask Buffy to drive me to TJ’s. Andi insisted on coming, so the three of us are sitting down the street from TJ’s house, waiting. I know I have to do it now. Before we’re back at school, before all the gears shift back to normal and TJ and I are nothing more than a memory. But, I don’t know if I can do it.

“Cyrus,” Buffy says to me, turning around so she can meet my eyes. “I stopped here, because I know exactly what you’re thinking right now. Stop it.”

“What if he says no?”

“Then he says no, and you can have revenge sex with my ex.” Andi shrugs.

“No!” Buffy looks at her, panicked. “That is a horrible plan! Cyrus, he’s not going to reject you.”

“But he might!”

“Cyrus,” Buffy’s tone shifts, and she’s looking at me seriously. “That boy is completely and totally head over heels in love with you. Steve Jobs will rise from the dead before he rejects you.”

I nod, then give her a determined look. “Let’s do this.”

When we pull up to TJ’s house, the lights are on and his car is in the driveway; so is his mom’s minivan. The sun is just going down, early because it’s winter. Across the street, TJ’s neighbors still have their holiday lights up.

  
I can feel the veins in my wrists pulsing, and I feel like I might puke. I run out of the car and ring the doorbell. When I hear footsteps from inside, I wave Buffy off, and she backs out of the driveway. Andi sends me a thumbs-up and I wave back.

TJ opens the door. My heart jumps like a Mexican jumping bean in my chest. He’s wearing a button-down I’ve never seen before, plaid. It must have been a Christmas present. His hair is mussed on top, like he’s been lying down. He doesn’t look so very surprised to see me. “Hey.”

“Hi,” I smile fondly at him. “How was your Christmas?”

“Good.” He takes his time, four whole seconds, before he asks, “How was yours? Your Hannukah, I mean.”

“Great. Loren got a new puppy. His name is Flynn Ryder. She’s on a Rapunzel kick right now.” Not even a trace of a smile from TJ. He’s cold; I didn’t expect him to be cold. Maybe not even cold. Maybe just indifferent. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

TJ shrugs, which seems like a yes, but he doesn’t invite me in. I have this sudden sick-to-my-stomach fear that he’s going to slam the door in my face, but it dissipates when I see him reach for the coat rack by the door. He leaves the door ajar as he puts on sneakers and a coat, and then steps onto the porch. He closes the door behind him and sits down on the steps. I sit next to him, tugging my coat around me tightly. “So, what’s up?” he says, like I’m taking up his precious time.

This isn’t right. Not what I expected at all.

But what, exactly, did I expect from TJ? I’d give him the letter, and he’d read it, and then he’d love me? He’d take me in his arms; we’d kiss passionately, but just kissing, just innocent. Then what? We’d date? How long until he grew bored of me, or wanted more than I was prepared to give, bedroomwise and also just lifewise?

Someone like him could never be content staying at home and watching a movie on the couch. This is TJ Kippen we’re talking about, after all.

I take so long swept up in my fast-forward reverie that he says it again, just slightly less cold this time. “What, Cyrus?” He looks at me like he’s waiting for something, and suddenly I’m afraid to give it.

I tighten my fist around the letter, shove it into my coat pocket. My hands are freezing. I don’t have any gloves or hat; I should probably just go home. “I just came to say I’m sorry for the way things turned out. And… I hope we can still be friends, and happy new year.”

His eyes narrow at this. “‘Happy new year’?” he repeats. “That’s what you came here to say? Sorry and happy new year?”

“And I hope we can still be friends,” I add, biting my lip.

“You hope we can still be friends,” he repeats, and there is a note of sarcasm in his voice that I don’t understand or like.

“That’s what I said.” I start to stand up. I was hoping he’d give me a ride home, but now I don’t want to ask. But it’s so cold outside. Maybe if I hint? Blowing on my hands, I say, “Well, I’m gonna head home.”

“Wait a minute. Let’s go back to the apology part. What are you apologizing for, exactly? For kicking me out of your house, or for thinking I’m a dirtbag who would go around telling people we had sex when we didn’t?”

A lump forms in my throat. When he puts it that way, it really does sound terrible. “Both of those things. I’m sorry for both of those things.”

TJ cocks his head to the side, his eyebrows raised. “And what else?”

I bristle. What else? “There is no ‘what else.’ That’s it.” Thank God I didn’t give him the letter, if this is how he’s going to be. It’s not like I’m the only one with stuff to apologize for.

“Hey, you’re the one who came here talking about ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘let’s be friends.’ You don’t get to force me into accepting your half-assed apology.”

“Well, I wish you a happy new year anyway.” Now I’m the one being sarcastic, and it sure is satisfying. “Have a nice life. Auld lang syne and all that.”

“Fine. Bye.”

I turn to go. I was so hopeful this morning, I had such stars in my eyes imagining how this was all going to go. God, what a jerk TJ is. Good riddance to him!

“Wait a minute.”

Hope leaps into my heart, swift and unbidden. But I turn back around, like Ugh, what do you want now, so he doesn’t see it.

“What’s that you’ve got crumpled up in your pocket?”

My hand flies down to my pocket. “That? Oh, it’s nothing. It’s junk mail. It was on the ground by your mailbox. No worries, I’ll recycle it for you.”

“Give it to me and I’ll recycle it right now,” he says, holding out his hand.

“No, I said I’ll do it.” I reach down to stuff the letter deeper into my coat pocket, and TJ tries to snatch it out of my hand. I twist away from him wildly and hold on tight. He shrugs, and I relax and let out a small sigh of relief, and then he lunges forward and plucks it away from me.

I pant, “Give it back, TJ!”

Blithely he says, “Tampering with US mail is a federal offense.” Then he looks down at the envelope. “This is to me. From you.” I make a desperate grab for the envelope, and it takes him by surprise. We wrestle for it; I’ve got the corner of it in my grip, but he’s not letting go. “Stop, you’re going to rip it!” he yells, prying it out of my grasp.

I try to grab harder, but it’s too late. He has it.

TJ holds the envelope above my head and tears it open and begins to read. It’s torturous standing there in front of him, waiting. For what, I don’t know. More humiliation? I should probably just go. He’s such a slow reader.

When he’s finally done, he asks, “Why weren’t you going to give me this? Why were you just going to leave?”

“Because, I don’t know, you didn’t seem so glad to see me... .” My voice trails off lamely.

“It’s called playing hard to get! I’ve been waiting for you to call me, you dummy. It’s been five days.”

I suck in my breath. “Oh!”

“‘Oh.’” He pulls me by the lapels of my coat, closer to him, close enough to kiss. He’s so close I can see the puffs his breath makes. So close I could count his eyelashes if I wanted. In a low voice he says, “So then... you still like me?”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “I mean, sort of.” My heartbeat is going quick-quick-quick. I’m giddy. Is this a dream? If so, let me never wake up.

TJ gives me a look like Get real, you know you like me. I do, I do. Then, softly, he says, “Do you believe me that I didn’t tell people we had sex on the ski trip?”

“Yes.”

“Then can we do this, Cyrus? For real?”

I press into him, winding my arms around his neck, and resting my forehead against his.

“I don’t know,” I say teasingly. “I really liked your love notes.”

He grins against my cheek, and I close my eyes, heart thrumming in my chest like hummingbird wings.

“Cyrus, for real.” He says softly. “No contract. No more safety net.”

I turn my head, and kiss him deeply. His mouth moves against mine softly, sweetly. Like he’s pouring every good feeling he’s ever had around me into this kiss. And I am, too.

“You can break my heart,” I tell him honestly, once we’ve pulled away. “Do whatever you want with it.”

He smiles wider than I’ve ever seen him smile, and he lifts me in the air suddenly, spinning me around once, before placing me back on the ground, and kissing me again. I put my hand to my chest, over his heart, and feel the steady rhythm of its beats as we kiss.

So much of love is chances. A flip of a coin, a name pulled out of a hat, a letter sent by a meddling friend. If he hadn’t been walking down the hallway that first day I rejected Jonah, maybe we wouldn’t be here right now. But he was, and we are. There’s something real, and scary about that.

I pull away from TJ, and put his hand over my heart. “Please take care of this.”

The way he looks at me- I know he’s never looked at anybody this way before. And then I’m back in his arms, and we’re kissing, and hugging, and shaking, because this is it.

  
This is real.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to message with requests i’m on insta @mayzieedits
> 
> thanks for reading! mwah!


End file.
